


There is More than Everything: The Frostpudding 100 Theme Challenge

by ForeverNever



Category: British Actor RPF, Thor (Movies), Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: 100 Theme Challenge, And angst, As in attempt a the real science of intersex, Check chapter notes for warnings by chapter, Daddy Kink, Humor, I'm sorry if I get it super wrong, Intersex!Tom, Loki Is Evil, M/M, Not sure what all will be in here, Sometimes he's just misguided, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism, and cute things, lots of smut, sometimes, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverNever/pseuds/ForeverNever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and Loki's adventures, as prompted by a 100 Theme Challenge. Some may be AU, some may be explicit, some may be perfectly family friendly, and some may be heartbreaking. It's impossible to know at the moment, but each one is certain to be something all its own! CHAPTER 7 REWRITTEN! Please re-read that chapter, it's much better now. Thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Past character death, sadness. I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. Still...sorry.

These were Tom’s wishes. 

That was all Loki could think, all that filled the numbness of him. Had he somehow become part of the Void? That was all that made sense. No one should be this numb.  
He had always fulfilled Tom’s wishes, he told himself, he couldn’t stop now. And that was true. No matter what it had cost him personally, he had always done what Tom had asked. From staying that first night, or kissing him gently for the first time, or showing his Jotunn form, or submitting to Tom’s will, or submitting to his body. And all of it had terrified him. All of it had filled him with a new kind of terror, one he had never known before that moment, and still he had seen it through. 

And so he stood, stalk-still, as the casket was lowered into the ground. He was one of the only people there; Tom had asked for a small funeral. There was no terror. Not now. Loki knew what awaited him. An eternity, alone in a way he had not been in sixty years. Not so long as Tom lived. A blink of an eye. An immeasurable blessing. But, as Tom had said, “Not everyone is made for immortality.” Loki could only believe him. 

And so he stood, stalk-still, and the Void was envious of his blankness.


	2. Don't Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has to make amends for a mistake he shouldn't have made, but he's never been able to tell the truth. He can only hope Tom hears what he can't say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General rating, though there is mention of injury. I tried not to be too graphic.

Loki was a liar. Tom had known this, had always known this, would always know this, and so he did his best to simply not hear. At least, he did for a while. It had taken so long to learn to hear again, to believe what Loki was saying behind the words themselves. Tom wasted years not hearing.

“You useless, mewling mortal! See how easily you break?” Loki motioned to Tom’s hand, where three fingers were bent horribly out of shape thanks to Tom’s own clumsiness. “You are a hindrance, a weight on my ankle. I will be rid of you!” Through the fog of tears Tom saw Loki dissipate in a flurry of seidr, and let the sobs wrack his ‘useless, mortal’ form. The pain in his hand was immense, and the horror of the ensuing fight bit at his heart.

This seemed to happen all too often. Whenever Tom would get hurt, even minorly, Loki would fly off the hinges and scream at his poor, injured lover until he demanded to see the injury, healing it within moments. Never, never had Loki left Tom alone in his apartment with broken fingers and blood dripping down his forearm. This time Tom had been trying to replace a lightbulb, but the stepladder was rickety at best and he had fallen. He had landed oddly on his hand, breaking his fingers, and when the lightbulb had smashed next to him his arm had been cut by a few shards. Loki had never seen him bleed before.

Shaking, on the floor, Tom couldn’t think of anything to do. He didn’t want to go to the doctor, despite the clear need, because he knew Loki would take care of it when he returned—but he waited, and he waited, and Loki did not come back. A pit formed in Tom’s stomach, growing heavier with each moment that Loki was not there. Loki had never had such a violent reaction to Tom’s injuries before, and it didn’t make any sense to Tom. A normal lover would worry and take Tom to the urgent care, but instead Loki throws a tantrum and blames it all on Tom—as if Loki were the one injured. Anger started to rise in Tom. How dare Loki, who claimed to loved him, leave him untended to and in pain?

Tom rose, cradling his injured hand, and called Chris Hemsworth. He needed someone to drive him to the doctor.

To everyone’s surprise, Tom’s hand required surgery. The nurse at the ER said his fingers were too badly broken to be trusted to heal properly on their own, and so Tom went under the knife and got a good bit of metal drilled into his finger bones. Filming had to be put on hold for a while, though Tom loathed the fact, and it wasn’t until nearly a month later that Tom saw a flash of green in his periphery.

He resolutely ignored it. All the anger that had been waning, giving way to loneliness, came roaring back with a vengeance. Tom had missed Loki, but suddenly he wasn’t sure why. He saw Loki, now materialized, come hesitantly closer to the chair where Tom sat, but didn’t look up. Tom’s good hand tightened on the pages of the book he was reading, his eyes narrowing, but he refused to acknowledge the presence of the god who had left him alone. Loki’s hand felt cool and good through the sleeve of Tom’s shirt as Loki’s fingertips gently rested on Tom’s bicep, but Tom would never admit that. Instead he jerked his arm away, still staring at a spot between lines on the page like he could make the book combust just from his heated gaze.

“Go away,” he grit out, doing his best not to shout, not to let all the growing pressure inside himself get the best of him. He was always the calm one—but he shouldn’t say that anymore. There was no more ‘us’ for him to be the calm one of.

“Thomas—“

“You left,” Tom said. His voice caught, he couldn’t continue the rant he had, by now, perfected by screaming it at the mirror because the mirror only showed him Loki’s face. But he didn’t need to say any more. Really, it had all been said.

“I brought back a healing salve, it will knit your bones back together,” was all Loki said. _I’m sorry_ , was what Tom tried not to hear. He held it out. Tom didn’t take it.

“I don’t need it,” Tom said. “I’ll be back on set in a week. Besides, everyone would wonder if suddenly I was just better.”

“I got my mother’s help,” Loki said, after a silence. _I was worried about you._ “She sends her best wishes.” _Please let me stay_.

“Well, then, you’d better go back to Asgard and tell her I send my best back,” Tom bit. “You needn’t come back.”

The silence stretched on this time.

“I’ll—“ Loki started. “I’ll leave this here. For next time.” _For when I’m not here to heal you._ The salve was put on the table in front of Tom, and Loki slowly turned to leave. And Tom didn’t hear him say another word, but the silence told him everything.

 _I want to heal you_.

Tom bit his lip.

 _I don’t want to lose you_.

Tom tried to ignore the growing pain in his heart.

_Not to injuries, and not to time. You’re so fragile, my Thomas._

Tom knew Loki would never voice that fear—that fear that someday Thomas would die. Suddenly Loki's reactions made some sense. Tom felt his walls crumbling.

“Farewell, Thomas,” Loki said, hand on the doorknob.

_I’ll always watch over you._

The door slid closed.

“Loki, wait,” Tom said, and Loki started, green eyes looking through the crack that the door had yet to close. He looked utterly disbelieving. Tom looked back and knew he couldn’t deny what he hadn’t heard. “You can come back in. But you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” And Tom knew Loki could hear what he hadn’t said.

Sometimes, you didn’t need to hear. You just needed to listen.


	3. Dressed to Impress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know how dashing Tom looks in really just about anything. But how does Loki like him best?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for mentions of alcohol consumption and sex, though none is described. Mostly it's just Loki reminiscing on how he met Tom--until Tom comes in with a different plan.

Tom’s style had evolved greatly over the years that Loki had known him (though Loki would guess it had less to do with Tom and more to do with Tom’s wardrobe manager. Get famous enough, you get one of those). And Tom looked very good in those three-piece suits, with their excellently tailored pants, or in that white shirt that always seemed moments away from busting its buttons, or even in that threadbare gray t-shirt that showed the darkness of Tom’s nipples. Yes, Tom looked very good in those things. Still, Loki had moments where he missed the oddities Tom used to try to get away with.

When Loki had first tracked down the mortal, Tom was in Uni, and despite his already devilish good looks he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. Part of it was that he was still growing into his skin, too scrawny for his height and all elbows and knees. His face lacked much of the definition that made him so handsome to Loki (as well as to many other people that Loki had to consciously try not to murder), and he did not yet have the grace that seemed to natural to him. He was much younger then, and somehow both more and less than the man he grew up to be. 

Loki, who had limited magic still at his disposal after the New York incident, and had been banished to an alternate Midgard, had seen Thor and the Avengers not a week after being deposited on what he thought to be a worthless hunk of intergalactic matter. The wounds left by what had happened were still raw, and a part of them would always remain so, and seeing his pain played out on the silver screen for the enjoyment of thousands was more than he could bear. 

He needed someone on whom to place blame, and he had chosen the actor who portrayed him. He could not, at the time, decipher why he hated the man with so much vehemence, but later he would be able to admit to himself it was because of how truly the actor played him. As if he understood. And he couldn’t understand, he just couldn’t, and Loki hated him for thinking that he could. 

Loki plotted his revenge, plotted it for years as he slowly worked his seidr back into his bones, and decided that the most delicious of deaths would be the one the fool didn’t know the reason for. And so Loki learned how to throw himself back in time. 

There was no guarantee he would be able to return to the time he had been in, but that made no difference to him. What was time to a god? Besides, no one would miss him. A bit of research (during which Loki discovered the incredible, destructive power of the Google) told Loki where and when to be, and though it took another four months to perfect the spell’s range it was with much pleasure that he found himself in front of a dorm room in London, England.

The spell hadn’t taken him directly there, if he recalled, and it had been rather bothersome to try to determine his whereabouts in relation to where he wanted to be. He had to take a taxi, which was horrendously overpriced, because he had exhausted what little seidr he could still say he had. 

It was, however, a holiday break, which he had not counted on. It worked in his favor, as Tom happened to be staying on campus that particular break and was alone in the room he usually shared. Loki watched, and waited for the perfect moment. 

The perfect moment came. 

The perfect moment went. 

Loki had been unable to attack the mortal. He couldn’t say what it was, and probably would never be able to, but there had been something, something even deeper in him than his magic, that had immediately grown to like the child. And that child grew, and became a young man, and then grew more. And finally Loki had said something to him. Just a hello, in passing, or at least that had been the plan; but Tom, as blasted social as he was, had smiled and shook his hand and they had ended up at the coffee shop in the center of campus, talking until Tom realized he was two hours late for his three-hour long class. Loki would never forget the horrified look on Tom’s face. It had been at once hilarious and deeply distressing. 

It had taken time, of course, to warm Tom up to the idea that Loki was actually Loki, but a few minor feats of magic and Tom was sold. That, and the way that Loki never aged. He could put a glamour on himself and appear older or younger, but underneath it he always looked the way he looked. By the end of that academic year, Tom and Loki were inseparable. 

Loki shook his head, sitting on the couch in his and Tom’s apartment. Tom had just finished filming Thor 2, and was in the bathroom, probably falling all over the place. The two of them had a ritual, once filming ended. Tom would always drink a little more than he was supposed to, and it would either lead to sex or to Loki holding the mortal while he vomited. 

Tom had a limited alcohol tolerance. 

Loki shook his head again, trying to remember why he had suddenly launched into memories of the way he and Tom met. Ah, yes, the three piece suit hanging on the door. That was for a press conference tomorrow, or some such, and Tom was to look his best. Loki heard the bathroom door open and turned his head.

Staring straight at a naked, horny Tom.

“Thomas,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?” Tom held his arms wide, as if presenting himself, and Loki couldn’t help his roaming eyes. 

“I’m dressed to impress, darling,” Tom replied, coming closer. Loki smirked just before he pounced.

Tom looked better naked than in any suit.


	4. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom gives Loki a show, he just doesn't know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for sexual content. ALSO: This ficlet is AU. In this, Loki is not a Norse god, just a Norwegian kid. He happens to land Tom as a roommate for a semester spent studying in England. And really, really enjoys that. I like this idea--no promises, but you may see more along this line, maybe in a different compilation of one-shots.

Loki tried to convince himself this had been an accident. He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t been hoping this would happen, living for the possibility that maybe it would, staying up late just in case. And now it was happening, and he had to do his best not to let his breathing speed up. That would give him away.

Thomas was his roommate, he kept telling himself. His perfectly handsome, perfectly generous, perfectly straight roommate. They didn’t even talk that much, really, but Loki felt that was probably due to his own introverted nature rather than Thomas not wanting to get to know him. And Loki was from Norway, he’d only be studying in England for one semester, then he’d never see Thomas again. But he had spent every spare minute in this dorm room, making sure to give Thomas almost no time to himself, and since their bathroom was attached to their room there was literally nowhere to tend to his needs. Loki knew he wasn’t involved with anyone. 

And so it was inevitable, really, when Loki was jolted out of almost-sleep by slightly labored breathing. It had to be Thomas’, he thought. There couldn’t have been anyone else in their room. At first he didn’t want to believe what was happening was happening, not wanting to lead himself on unnecessarily, but when he heard a bottle uncap and heard the lotion being dispensed a dark thrill ran through him. 

Loki had never been a particularly shy person when it came to his sexuality, but this was new for him. To listen in on his roommate—his completely unaware roommate—fucking his own hand was taboo, even more than what he usually did, and it was so sinfully hot. Thomas sighed quietly as his slicked hand made contact with his sex, and Loki fought back a shudder. 

It was all Loki could do not to turn around and watch, but he had to keep facing the wall. Any movement and Thomas might stop. So instead Loki closed his eyes, imagining what Thomas would look like. His lightly tanned body laid out on the sheets—no, under the sheets, in case Loki looked over, probably facing away from Loki. Loki could almost see in his mind’s eye the way Thomas’ defined back muscles would flex with the movement of his arm, the way the sheet would slip just a little further down on his hips, showing just the barest sliver of his perfect runner’s ass…

Thomas let out a tiny grunt, and Loki shivered. He wondered what could have made Thomas make that noise…that sexy, sultry noise. Had he swiped his thumb over the head? Had there been precum? There might have been. Poor Thomas had been holding back for almost a month, the perfect image of piety, and it had been all Loki’s fault. He had done this on purpose. He had pushed Thomas to the point of jacking off right next to his supposedly-sleeping roommate. Oh, that was delicious. 

Loki tried to paint the picture of Thomas’ face in his mind. Slightly red, perhaps, from the embarrassment of what he was doing, thin lips parted slightly but his perfectly straight teeth gritted against all noise. And those eyes—those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes—would be crushed closed, Thomas focusing on the feelings flooding his body. 

Oh, that body. Not tan, but tanner than Loki’s own ghost-pale skin, and adorably built. He would grow into a stunning man someday, Loki was certain. He was already so attractive, and his personality only augmented the visual appeal, but now here he was, brought down so base as to please himself in the same room as another man. Loki had to remind himself not to reach down and touch his own livening erection. 

Loki wondered what that cock looked like. He had seen the bulge in Thomas’ pants, had tried not to stare at it, but oh did Thomas seem well-endowed. And he wasn’t the kind to shove socks down his trousers for looks. It must have been long, absolutely, but was it thick? Oh, Loki hoped it was thick. It would be hard, from the little noises Thomas was trying not to make, hard and red, the bulbous head almost purple and leaking. It would fill Loki up, fill him so good, hit all the places Loki longed to have hit. Loki almost whined at the thought.

That thought, though. Thomas, above him, brow furrowed in concentration and eyes darkened by lust, beautiful body shimmering with sweat, hips moving sinuously. Thomas, inside him, thrusting, soft, hard, fast, slow, ohhhh…  
Loki actually had to bite his lip, rather hard, to keep from making any noise. His hand twitched, along with a certain other part of his anatomy that was begging for touch. But he couldn’t, Thomas would be too likely to hear. Loki, unfortunately, was very, very bad at reigning in his noises. He could hardly do it now—he certainly would fail if he tried to touch himself. Just the thought had him pulsing, his cock full and pressing against his abs. 

Thomas’ noises were coming, still small, but far more frequent. He was reaching his limit already. Loki figured that holding back so long had been hard for the poor young man, and if it hadn’t have felt so good Loki would have felt guilty. As it was, Loki just felt achingly empty. He wanted a cock. (Well, he had one, but he wasn’t keen on trying to jam it up his ass while it was still attached.) He could feel his hole twitching, asking for something to fill it up. Even his fingers would have been at least something, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Thomas whined, high and long, and then all noise stopped. Even Thomas’ breathing. Then Thomas let out a loud exhale, probably relaxing against the pillows if the shifting sound meant anything, and the pulse of arousal went right through Loki’s core. Thomas had just come. Thomas had come, in this room, next to Loki, and it was all Loki’s fault. Loki realized how much faster his own breathing had become, and had to force it to slow to keep from alerting Thomas to his arousal. And Loki was very, very aroused. 

He continued to listen as Thomas dozed off, eventually lightly snoring, but didn’t dare reach his hand down to relieve himself. He had learned that Thomas was a light sleeper, and it was because of this that Loki’s own sleep pattern had changed. He hadn’t wanted to keep waking the sweet, caring boy, and so had taken to going to bed much earlier than was normal for his usual night-owl self. 

The erection didn’t go down, either. The sounds, the mental images, they wouldn’t leave. Loki could only sit there and stew in the retribution karma had decided upon. Although, perhaps tomorrow night be could give Thomas a little show of his own…He shook that thought from his head. Mostly. Instead he just sat there and willed himself to sleep, knowing it wouldn’t come, and trying again to convince himself that he hadn’t wanted this to happen.


	5. Don't See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same AU as the previous story, Tom walks into the room to find Loki in the shower...in a rather compromising position. He knows he shouldn't look, but he can't stop himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for sexual content. ALSO: It's the SAME AU as the last chapter! Loki and Tom are both college students here, who are rooming together. You should have read the other chapter first, but if you didn't or it's been a while you should re-read it for continuity's sake. 
> 
> I know I said I was going to put this AU into a series of oneshots somewhere else, but this idea came to me and I just had to do it. There will be a final part, and it will come next. It may be a while though, since I'm just about to head back to college and will be really busy for a little bit. I hope you don't mind the wait!

Tom felt like crap—a giant, stinking, steaming pile of crap. And he just wasn’t okay with that. He tried to be, he spent half of afternoon class trying to make himself believe he was fine, but after he almost barfed in the trash can he figured it was time to bow out. He had friends in that class, he could get the notes, and he was a good student anyway. It wasn’t like half a class would destroy his near-perfect GPA. So Tom headed back to his dorm room, intent on sleeping off whatever bug he had caught. He almost barged right in, but remembered at the last moment that Loki didn’t have afternoon class on Thursdays and would probably be in the room. It seemed like he was always in the room, which had given Tom some…difficult choices. Tom had officially started jacking off while Loki slept, which he felt terrible about, and he couldn’t deny that much of his guilt lay over how much the prospect of Loki waking up turned him on. He wasn’t that much of a voyeur, but for some reason Loki was just…different.

Not in a bad way, Tom thought as he gently (and quietly) opened the door. Tom liked talking to Loki, and Loki seemed to like talking to Tom. Tom could admit that he was having a little bit of a sexuality crisis over all this. He had always considered himself bisexual, but had never felt like he could be emotionally attached to another male like he could with a woman; Loki was changing that. It was a crush, Tom reminded himself, and Loki would be going back to Norway sooner than Tom would like to admit. Tom hoped they stayed in touch. As he set his backpack down by his bed, he looked around the small room. Loki was nowhere to be seen, but the shower was running so Tom assumed that was where Loki was. He tried not to think of Loki naked and wet; that just wasn’t gentlemanly. Tom had been raised to be courteous and respectful to everyone, but especially to those he was romantically involved with, and his mother had sat him down when he came out as bi and made it very, very clear to him that the code of chivalry applied to any men he dated as well. And he wasn’t dating Loki, but he would kind of like to be, so he kept to that code.

Until he heard a little moan from the bathroom. Tom froze. A thousand thoughts ran through his head at once, not the least of which was that maybe Loki was taking the time to take care of his needs while Tom was supposed to be out. What did Tom do? Did he pretend he hadn’t heard anything and announce his presence? That was certainly the most respectable thing to do, but…Tom couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard that sound. He could already feel his face flushing, and he was certain that he couldn’t fool Loki into thinking he had just walked in. Loki was unnaturally good at spotting lies.

Tom heard the noise again, louder, and he…well, he got a little aroused himself. He’d been attracted to men before, but he had never been in bed with one, and had never heard one moan (except in porn, but that didn’t count). And Loki had such a beautiful voice, deep timbered and slightly shaky from however he was pleasing himself, and Tom could just feel the pleasure dripping from that sound. Loki was really enjoying himself. It would be rude to stop him, Tom thought. He was probably having the same problem as Tom was—it was hard to find a private moment, and Loki deserved some time alone.

Tom turned and tiptoed back to the door, fully intent on leaving Loki to his devices for a while, until he heard a small yelp. Immediately he was worried. That didn’t sound like Loki was having fun, it sounded like Loki was in pain. Had he fallen and hurt himself? Tom hadn’t heard any thumps or anything, but he was immediately concerned. It was his concern that led him to tiptoe quietly over to the bathroom door. The lock had broken at the beginning of the year and the college had yet to fix it, so he only had to turn the knob and crack it open to check on his roommate.

What Tom saw made him go at once cold with shock and hot with need. Tom actually watched as Loki stuffed a third finger into his ass, making the same, slightly uncomfortable sound but with a look on his face that spoke of bliss. Loki loved this. Tom couldn’t close the door, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself he wasn’t sure he would if he’d had the ability. He had tried anal with a girlfriend once, and it had been the tightest thing he’d ever felt. She had said it hurt too bad and he’d had to stop, but he’d always fantasized about being buried in someone’s rear end again—and here was Loki, attractive, fascinating Loki, getting himself all ready for it like some, some… _whore_.

That’s what Loki looked like in that moment. He looked like a wanton whore. And Tom hated to think that, hated to think something so horribly derogatory, but looking at the scene in front of him he had to. Loki, dripping wet under the running showerhead, eyes closed, mouth ajar, eyebrows puckered in pleasure-pain, three fingers _crammed_ up his ass…Tom had to bite his lip. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this. He knew with every fiber of his being it was wrong to watch someone without consent, or even awareness, he knew he would hate to be caught in Loki’s position, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away. His queasiness was all but forgotten, thrown out the window because he felt that Loki looked so beautiful, so needy and so desperate, that Tom couldn’t let a little nausea get in the way of absorbing this moment. So he watched.

He watched as Loki slowly started to move his fingers, whimpering and then moaning loudly. It took a moment, but suddenly he bucked his slim, pale hips (that Tom longed to hold so tight they bruised) back into his fingers with the most sexual sound Tom had ever heard. It was a cross between a growl, a groan and a sigh of utter contentment, like Loki had found some missing piece of himself, and maybe he had. Looking at his face it was easy to think that way.

Loki started absolutely fucking himself on his fingers, and Tom felt a telltale throbbing in his pants. He had just masturbated last night, but he knew he’d need relief again as soon as Loki was asleep. Loki, too, seemed like he’d been pent up for a while, his own cock standing in proud form and swaying as Loki’s fingers delved deeper. Tom had heard of the prostate, had done a little research when he found out he was bi, and from Loki’s _incredibly fucking hot_ noises there was nothing else it could be. Did it really feel that good to be filled?

Loki didn’t touch his aching erection, the hand not occupied with opening himself up pressed tightly to the shower wall for balance, and somehow that was even hotter to Tom. It was proof that Loki truly enjoyed doing this to himself, and with fatal accuracy Tom realized that Loki must have been able to come from finger-fucking alone.

Loki was loud, Tom realized. He didn’t hold back his vocalizations at all, but he also clearly wasn’t faking them. Many women Tom had been with would moan because porn told them they were supposed to, with little real feeling behind it, and to hear someone so vocally expressing true arousal was astonishingly sexy. Just the sound alone would ring through Tom’s head for days, he was certain, and would probably be enough on their own to bring him to completion, but _the sight_. Oh, the sight. Tom could only stare. Loki really was very appealing, physically. His jet-black hair framed his face perfectly (much better than Tom’s own, unruly mop of blonde curls, in Tom’s opinion) and the contrast with his pale skin made for incredible definition to his facial features. His long, black eyelashes, his red, red lips, and of course his incredibly haunting, exciting, heartrendingly green eyes, all of it made Tom’s heart pump a little louder every time he saw the other young man. And to see him like this, in a state of bliss, made Tom’s blood quicken. And that body. Oh, what a body. Just as pale as his face, but equally as defined, and for the first time Tom saw Loki’s pert, ruddy nipples (standing at attention, oh God), his thick mop of black pubic hair, his very (very) grippable ass, his purpling cock. Tom’s lower jaw shook, just a little. Loki was _exceptional_.

Loki threw his head back with a gasp, his jaw slackening in the pre-orgasm rush, and Tom had a sudden vivid picture of ramming his cock into that open mouth, those bright lips stretching tight around his base, Loki’s look of happiness like he lived to have another man’s meat shoved down his throat. Tom very consciously had to remind himself not to moan.

Loki, still happily unaware, jerked his whole body once, twice, and let out a long moan as he spilled against the tiles. As Tom suspected, he came without a single touch to his neglected cock. Seeing Loki’s scrotum pull up towards his body, his shaft pulse as it expelled its juices, his _fucking face oh my God_ was rapturous. Tom couldn't stop staring.

 Then Loki sluggishly started to come out of the orgasmic haze, slowly pulling his fingers from himself and reaching for the shower tap. Tom realized with sudden panic that once the water was off it would be near impossible for him to escape without being heard, and so very carefully pulled the door to and beat a hasty retreat. He grabbed a pillow on the way out, to hold in his lap and hide his raging erection. And so Tom sat in the hallway, sitting against the wall by his door and waiting for his body to calm down. It just didn’t seem to be happening. Those images flashed through his head and behind his eyelids when he blinked, and he just couldn’t get himself to feel guilty. He knew he should, but…he just couldn’t. It was then that Tom decided to woo a man for the first time in his life. And he knew just how to do it.


	6. Bite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same world as the previous two chapters, Tom finally makes a move. It works out well for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for sexual content. In case you didn't read it above, this IS the SAME AU as the previous two chapters. Sorry it took so long, I had to move back to college. On the note of waiting for chapters, it will be a while before the next one is up. I know what I want to do with it, and it's the final chapter in this AU arc, but I'll be studying abroad for the next 4 weeks so I won't be able to write. 
> 
> Anyway, all Norwegian is translated by Google, so please forgive me if there are mistakes. And if there are, please tell me how to fix them! I want to make sense, even when it's not English. The English translations of the Norwegian are placed in parentheses directly after the Norwegian dialogue. Thank you for reading, and I hope you like it!

Unbeknownst to Loki, Tom had been planning this for almost a month. He’d had to do it all in secret, from reading up on rather dodgy sites about how this was supposed to work to learning the dance moves to studying Norwegian, and now it was time to put it into effect. Tom took a deep breath—it was now or never. There were only three months left in the semester, and if Tom wanted to have a relationship with Loki (which he did) then he’d better be quick about it. 

He tried not to think about how, if he failed, he’d not only ruin their friendship but have a really awkward next three months. Loki would still be his roommate, after all. 

Tom stood up from where he’d been sitting on his bed, getting into action before he could think better of it. “Hey, Loki?” Tom asked, and Loki looked up from his textbook with some surprise. He and Tom talked, of course, and had very good conversations, but it was an unspoken rule that they didn’t disturb each other during studying. And Loki thought about how considerate Tom was, and he realized that it was important. He just didn’t know what that meant.

So he was even more surprised when Tom held out a hand, smiling down at where he was sitting at his desk. Loki had to push his reading glasses up on his nose just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he saw. “I know this is kind of a weird question,” Tom said, “but I’ve been participating in the dance club’s meetings and they want me to dance with them at the talent show. I could use some practice. So…would you dance?”

Loki’s heart practically leapt into this throat, and he hoped that he had his neutral expression carefully glued on. Inside he was screaming yes yes yes yes! and it didn’t matter that Tom could have asked anyone, that there was no reason to come to Loki for this, because he got to dance with Tom. He took the proffered hand with a smile he hoped didn’t look too eager, pulling his glasses off as he stood up. “Sure, Tom,” he said. “I’d be happy to help. What dance is it?”

“The salsa,” Tom said, pulling Loki closer. They both thrilled at the contact of Tom’s hand on Loki’s waist. “You don’t mind being the woman, do you?”

“Not at all,” Loki said almost breathlessly. That was a question he had been asked many times, but always in bed, and just hearing those words come out of Tom’s mouth made his heart race. Tom’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled jubilantly, and Loki just about melted. 

Loki was a natural born dancer, which Tom discovered very quickly. Tom showed Loki the basic steps, and Loki took to it like a moth to flame. He just seemed made to move, his sinuous body rolling with the unheard music as Tom took them faster bit by bit. “Sway your hips a little more,” Tom instructed, and Loki immediately did. There was something about watching that movement that made Tom’s cock start to harden in his pants, but this time he didn’t fight it. It was all part of the plan. Assuming the plan was a good thing.

Loki was likewise enjoying himself in a rather un-kosher manner. He could feel Tom’s heat, his natural rhythm, his hidden strength that moved him as they danced. And the salsa! The salsa was such an erotic dance, and Loki could hardly think of anything other than Tom and keeping up with the beat. 

Tom spun Loki away from him, then pulled him back with grace. This time, however, Tom held the raven much closer—so much closer that each young man could distinctly feel the beginning arousal of the other. Tom thrilled, thinking that maybe, just maybe, his plan would work. 

They continued to dance, writhing together, and Tom could only imagine what it would be like to move together in a completely different way. Preferably under the sheets. Apparently Loki was thinking the same thing, because a light blush dusted his pale cheeks and his breathing was coming just a little faster. What Tom didn’t know was that Loki’s head was filled with all the sounds Tom had made over the past few weeks when he thought Loki was asleep, all those little moans and grunts that had Loki’s legs turning to jelly. He couldn’t even look Tom in the eye. 

Maybe that was good though, because Tom was putting on his full-on smolder while their hips swung against each other and Loki probably couldn’t take that. Tom, sweet, innocent-seeming Tom who normally seemed the perfect, refined gentleman, was suddenly oozing sex. Loki wanted to believe he was just imagining it, but at the same time it would absolutely break him if he was. In that moment it was so easy to believe Tom was interested in him. 

Tom could feel Loki’s erection pressing against his pelvis as they danced, and decided to pull out all the stops. He could tell Loki was liking this, and he just had to hope it was because of Tom and not just because of the eroticism inherent in the dance. After all, he knew Loki was gay. It couldn’t be that much of a stretch, right? 

Tom licked his lips, then leaned forward to whisper huskily in Loki’s ear, “Kan du føle det du gjør med meg?” (Can you feel what you do to me?)

Loki gasped, and it had more to do with hearing his native tongue fall from those lips than it did with the sudden increased pressure where their hips met. And oh, Loki could most certainly feel that package rutting up against his own. Tom drew his teeth over the lobe of Loki’s ear, and Loki mewled, leaning unconsciously closer. 

“Igjen,” he gasped without thinking. “Bite meg igjen.” (Again. Bite me again.)

Tom groaned, not fighting the full-body shudder that those words invoked, but that didn’t make him hesitate to do as Loki so prettily asked. Tom looked to the pale column of Loki’s neck and gently scraped his teeth across the outstanding tendon, making Loki moan. And for all of Tom’s eloquence, he couldn’t find the words to describe what that moan did to him. It was sinful and delicious and Tom wanted more.  
So he attacked Loki’s neck with fervor, slowly increasing the strength of his bites to find out how Loki liked it. The harder he bit, the more reaction he got. After particularly hard bites he would soothe over the area with his tongue, occasionally suckling just because he wanted to taste Loki’s skin in his mouth. By the time Loki’s neck was peppered with darkening marks, Loki was quaking and clasping at Tom’s shoulders like he needed something solid to hold himself up, but tilting his head to give Tom more access all the same. 

Loki decided to take a risk. He figured that all things considered Tom was probably into him, and he wanted to show that he was very, very into Tom too. So he rocked his hips, making Tom hiss a breath as their clothed erections rubbed against each other. They were nearly the same height, Loki being only the tiniest bit shorter, and so they found friction in just the right ways. When he repeated he motion he was rewarded with a quiet “Fuck,” and that one word did the same thing to Loki that Loki’s moans did to Tom. To make the eloquent Brit forget his linguistic prowess was high praise, and Loki relished it. 

Before long the two of them were grinding standing up, Tom’s big hands going to Loki’s hips and pulling him even tighter against him. They were both moaning, Tom having to occasionally cease his barrage on Loki’s neck to release the sound, and if they hadn’t have been relying on each other they would have fallen. As it was, it was a precarious balance they had picked up. But it felt too good to stop. 

Loki was the first to let his hands wander, his nails lightly scratching down Tom’s back outside of the blonde’s gray t-shirt. Tom bucked harder, earning a hearty moan, and decided it was time to take this to the bed. Besides the fact that he wouldn’t be able to stay standing up much longer, his arousal was throbbing almost painfully and he needed more relief. Tom maneuvered them so he was going backwards, then flipped them around so he could lower Loki to Tom’s bed.

Loki went easily, laying back parallel to the bedposts with his legs dangling off the side of the bed. He spread them immediately, and Tom settled between them, still standing. He went in for a passionate kiss, one that Loki both returned and cherished; until that moment Loki wasn’t entirely certain that Tom was interested in him as a person, just in the sexual relief he could provide (since everyone knew he was gay and perfectly willing to have no-strings-attached sex). But a mouth-to-mouth kiss was somehow more intimate, something most one night stands wouldn’t do unless they were really drunk, and even if he could have assumed it was nothing there was a heat, a fire in the kiss that would have knocked him flat if he hadn’t been laying down. 

He didn’t pause to think about their sudden change in relationship, letting it happen and deciding that they could figure it out later—and it didn’t hurt that at that moment Tom’s hands were pulling at Loki’s pants, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could without looking. As soon as Loki recognized what Tom was doing he was filled with a horrible need to see Tom, really see him, naked and wanting for Loki. In that moment, undressing Tom was all Loki wanted to do. So he did it. 

Tom groaned as Loki’s hands quickly slid inside his shirt, his palms laying flat against Tom’s torso as he pushed the garment up to bare Tom’s chest. Tom lifted his arms, breaking the kiss for just a moment to help Loki pull the shirt off, then returned to their heated lip-locking. Tom finally got Loki’s fly down, making Loki groan as the constriction around his cock was eased, but didn’t yet pull the jeans away. Instead he moved his hands to Loki’s shirt, a simple but classy green polo that somehow didn’t make Loki look like a geek. As attractive as it was, though, Tom just wanted it off.

They repeated the same movements they had when Tom’s shirt had come off, breaking the kiss as little as possible before returning to licking into each other’s mouths. Tom lowered his upper body down until his chest was against Loki’s, and Loki groaned quietly at the feel of their skin brushing with every breath. Tom swallowed the sound happily. 

When Loki’s hands went to Tom’s pants it was Loki’s turn to eat the resulting moan. Loki’s knuckles brushed against that bulge as he went to unbutton the offending garment, and he could feel how very, very aroused his roommate was. It made Loki shudder just to think of what Tom could do to him with that. But he was curious, after all those nights listening to Tom touching himself—he needed to know how big Tom was. He had fantasized for a month and a half, and he needed to feel Tom’s package. 

Tom gasped as Loki cupped his bulge through his grey boxer briefs, the heat of that hand driving him wild already. Loki must have been pleased with what he found, because he let out a moan of his own. Tom felt his pride swell; he had known since show-me-yours-I’ll-show-you-mine in seventh grade that he was gifted in the size department, but he had never had anyone moan so headily at just having him in their hand. What was going through Loki’s mind to make him give that sound? Was he imagining having Tom’s cock inside of him? Just the idea of Loki thinking of sex with him was enough to make Tom shiver.  
Before Tom knew it Loki’s hand had delved into his underwear, gently caressing the hot flesh it found. Loki wanted to take his time exploring Tom’s body, but they were both too needy for that. They needed to fuck, and they needed it now. Loki had been waiting for what felt like ages; he couldn’t wait anymore. 

It was Loki who wiggled himself out of his pants, kicking them off when they reached his ankles and pulling Tom out of his briefs. Tom hissed at the air against his hardness, but nearly choked on his breath when he felt Loki press Tom’s head against his entrance. His whole body screamed at him to thrust, to fuck into Loki’s willing body, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He remembered his experience with that girlfriend in high school, and he didn’t want to repeat that. It wouldn’t do to hurt Loki, especially not their first time together. So Tom pulled back, trying to ignore Loki’s whine of disappointment. 

“Shh,” Tom said soothingly, forehead resting against Loki’s as one arm went flying to the side to locate the lube. He’d put it in his bedside table, in the drawer, with the condoms, but he didn’t want to look away from Loki to find it. “Jeg ønsker ikke å såre deg.” (I don’t want to hurt you.) 

Loki turned to mush hearing Tom say that. Loki was used to quick fucks with little preparation, but this obviously wasn’t just a fuck to Tom. Loki kissed him deep, but after only a few moments Tom pulled away with an “Aha!” Tom pulled his hand out of the drawer, holding a small bottle of lube and one condom, and Loki bit his lip thinking about what came next. 

Tom was careful to coat his fingers thickly with the lube, slicking three of them since he had seen Loki use three on himself. He pressed one against Loki’s puckered bud, and was surprised how hard he had to push to get past the initial ring of muscle. He was used to women, whose entrances were more forgiving to intrusion. Loki gasped, his head falling back as his eyes fluttered closed, and he didn’t seem to be in any pain so Tom added a second finger. Loki whimpered, pushing his hips down into Tom’s movement. 

Tom didn’t immediately add another finger, pumping the two slowly at first to allow Loki time to adjust. Loki, however, didn’t really need it, and made that very clear after a minute or two. “Tom, vennligst mer. Jeg kan ta det, vennligst,” (Tom, please more. I can take it, please) Loki gasped. Tom shuddered, and even though he wasn’t certain he wanted to add another finger yet he did piston his fingers faster. Loki moaned, lifting his hips up, and that view was so enticing. 

Before long Loki was whimpering, begging for more without a word. He met Tom’s every thrust, clearly enjoying himself but nowhere near the edge. This wouldn’t be enough. Tom furrowed his brow in concentration; he had heard about the prostate, and knew that was what Loki needed, but despite having read about it he didn’t know how to find it. While he searched diligently, he leaned down to the bare expanse of Loki’s collarbone. He had wanted to do this, and he wanted to keep Loki pleased until he found the other’s prostate, so he figured why not?

Loki let out a wrenching moan as Tom bit down on his collarbone. There were no light nips first to warn him, just a full-on, bruising bite that had him reeling. “Ja, Tom, så bra! Så bra!” (Yes, Tom, so good! So good!) he panted, tangling his fingers in Tom’s curly hair and holding him there, encouraging him to bite again. He bit just a little harder this time, not hard enough to break the skin but more than enough to have Loki keening, thrusting his hips. But as good as it was, Loki needed more. 

When Loki made a come-hither motion with two fingers, Tom thought Loki wanted to say something. “Ja?” Tom asked, releasing the purpling marks on Loki’s collarbone. 

“Gjør dette. Gjøre dette med fingrene,” (Do this. Do this with your fingers.) Loki said, and Tom quickly understood. Loki was guiding Tom to that sweet little spot, and though he was a little ashamed that he’d needed Loki’s help Tom was grateful to be taught. He crooked his fingers, rubbing against Loki’s walls, and Loki gasped. “Ja! Dypere!”(Yes! Deeper!) Loki instructed, and Tom pushed his fingers in further before making the motion again. 

Obviously he hit the jackpot, because Loki jerked with a loud, happy yelp. His fingers dug so deep into Tom’s curls, pressing his face back against Loki’s chest, that Tom thought he might rip out some of the hair. Surprisingly enough, not only did he not mind, he almost liked it. Not because of the pain, but because Loki was losing himself so much that he didn’t even notice what he was doing. Tom liked being the cause of that. 

When Tom did it again, Loki grit out the sexiest almost-growl almost-grunt through his teeth and clenched. Tom had to moan just feeling it, imagining that tightness on a much more intimate part of his anatomy. “Oh, Tom, Thomas,” Loki gasped. Tom had never liked his full name as much as he did in that moment. 

“Ja, Loki?” Tom growled, moving his fingers again to keep Loki from noticing that Tom’s head was moving down. It worked. When Tom’s tongue laved over Loki’s nipple, taking it from hardened to fully peaked, Loki gasped. Oh, he liked that. He liked it even more when Tom bit that nub lightly at the same time as he added the third finger. Loki keened, feeling somehow more full than his own fingers could do. Tom just reached different places, and Loki loved it. 

“Ja?” Tom asked again, smirking infernally because he knew Loki had forgotten he’d even said anything. And Loki was going to say something, he really was, but Tom bit down lightly and pulled, pulled slowly but enough to make Loki arch and buck and keen. Then, once he had pulled it as far away from the rest of Loki’s body as it would go, he let go. Loki mewled, disappointed. Tom chuckled darkly as he moved up Loki’s body, looking into those dilated green eyes and relishing the fact that he had done this. He had made Loki lose himself, and he wasn’t done yet. 

“Fortell meg hva du vil,” Tom demanded. “Si det, Loki.” (Tell me what you want. Say it, Loki.) Loki suddenly grasped Tom’s face, looking into his eyes as his chest heaved. Tom’s fingers never stopped moving.

“I want you to fuck me,” Loki said.

Tom’s eyes went wide. He had known that was going to be the answer, or some approximation thereof, but to hear it in his own language? He hadn’t been prepared. His cock jumped, and now that he had permission he just couldn’t wait. Not anymore. A condom and a good dollop of lube (which was really cold, by the way) was all it took, though Loki took the liberty of helping Tom spread it. Feeling Loki’s more delicate hands against his cock almost killed poor Tom, but he loved it. He lined up and pressed in. 

Slowly, of course. He had looked back on his previous experience and decided that he had gone too quickly, and he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Inch by torturous inch, Tom winced as he slid in. Loki was so hot, so tight, it was almost painful but it wasn’t. It was so unbearably, undeniably good. It was all Tom could do not to slam in to the hilt, to fuck away the last of his sanity, but he wanted Loki to reach that peak with him. 

Loki, on the other hand, was tired of being treated as fragile. He wanted Tom to use him, really use him, he wanted Tom to let go and he wanted Tom to do it because of him. Loki was grateful that Tom was giving him time, but he wasn’t some virgin unused to being entered. Tom was bigger than any man Loki had ever had before, and all those fantasies about that bulge had been easily fulfilled, but once Tom was fully seated Loki didn’t want to wait anymore. 

So it was Loki who bucked first, driving Tom somehow impossibly deeper as the fullness of Loki’s rear rubbed against Tom’s thighs and pelvis. Tom growled low in his throat, and when Loki bucked again Tom was gone. He started thrusting, not quite hard because he still had some control, but he couldn’t keep up that torturously slow pace with Loki obviously begging him for more. 

Loki gasped as he got just what he wanted, Tom’s cock emptying and filling him alternately, and even though it was a medium pace and Tom wasn’t really hitting his prostate yet there was something rapturous about being filled like that. Loki had never felt anything like it, and he loved it. And he let Tom know. A loud, drawn out moan/whine made its way out of his throat, joining with the sound of their slapping flesh as Tom picked up the pace. Clearly Loki’s vocalizations did something to him, and Loki liked that. 

Tom was loving Loki’s noises, but he wanted to see that blissful face that Loki put on when his prostate was hit. He set out on a quest to find that sweet spot, and every new angle he tried brought on new sensations for both of them. He shifted Loki’s hips and there is was—and with finding it came that clenching, that feeling that Tom could only imagine on his cock but now here it was and it was perfect.  
Tom couldn’t remember anal being this good with his ex-girlfriend. He had thought that Loki would be looser than he remembered her being, if only because of his experience, but Tom couldn’t imagine that anyone was tighter than this. Loki constricted around him, pulsing his inner muscles with each drag against his prostate, and Tom felt himself losing it. 

Loki was in a similar state. How many times had he imagined seeing Tom above him? And now here he was, underneath his roommate as he was fucked into oblivion, finally seeing that beautiful body glistening with sweat from the exertion, finally seeing that handsome face contorted in pleasure and concentration. Somehow the sight was almost as arousing as the act, though how that could be Loki didn’t know. Tom was just so beautiful.

Loki didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to make this last, make it stay forever and forever, until the very world ended in fire, but he was getting close to his limit. Tom must have been too, because the medium pace he’d been trying to keep was speeding up, stuttering lightly, but just like Loki Tom refused to give in. He let the speed become nearly brutal, loving Loki’s animalistic noise of pleasure, the way Loki threw back his head as his eyes closed, the way he spasmed with need. But Tom wouldn’t come yet. He wouldn’t come before his partner, he just wouldn’t. 

He didn’t have long to wait, though, because once he grasped Loki’s angry, red erection all was lost. Just a few pumps had Loki spilling himself over Tom’s hand and his own chest with the most incredible sound. Tom never could have described it, but words didn’t matter at that moment because somehow Loki was tighter oh God how was that possible? and Tom was coming. 

They came hard, Loki painting their sweaty bodies and Tom filling the condom. Their bodies went rigid, stars flashed behind their eyes, and then they slumped together in a panting mess. 

After a moment Tom gently pulled out, noting the small whimper of loss that came from Loki, and throwing away the soiled condom. Loki clutched at Tom, not opening his eyes because he was suddenly unsure of what he would find. In the moment he had been so certain that Tom wanted something more than just sex, but now he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want Tom to go.

Tom felt Loki grasping at his shoulders as he pulled away, and decided not to move out of the range of Loki’s hands. Instead he did his best to grab some wipes off the bedstand, cleaning Loki gently until Loki relaxed. Tom maneuvered Loki so he was laying regularly on the bed, head cushioned by Tom’s pillow, before Tom crawled in beside him and snuggled into Loki’s bruised neck. He knew he should have felt guilty about leaving such dark marks, knowing they would probably ache to the touch a little, but he didn’t. Loki didn’t seem to mind. 

“Tom, what—what happens now?” Loki asked quietly, squishing himself as close to Tom as he could get because maybe Tom didn’t want anything more and just liked to cuddle after sex and then he would get up and leave and Loki wanted this moment. He wanted to say he’d felt Tom against him, even for a passing second.

“Well,” Tom said, pulling away a little to look at Loki with a smile, “I was thinking we could go to lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us.” Loki couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he didn’t complain one bit.  
Instead he said, “That would be great.” Tom’s face nearly split in two from his grin. 

“Great!” he said, cuddling closer with his nose in Loki’s hair. “Thank you, Loki. I don’t underestimate this.” Loki smiled into Tom’s chest. In the back of their minds they knew they didn’t have long, but they were determined to enjoy what they had. They drifted off to a content sleep, knowing they would wake up in the morning to each other.


	7. I'll be Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the same world as the previous three chapters, Tom and Loki meet again after fourteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REWRITTEN! Finally. I never liked how I wrote it the first time. I'm sorry for the tissues you will use reading this. The fluff has been revised to be angst, which I wasn't really intending but it happened anyway. The Norwegian is still from Google translate, so please tell me if it's horrendously wrong. 
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if this is the final chapter in this AU arc, or if there's another one in me somewhere. Don't get your hopes up, but I won't make a decision either way right now. Enjoy!

Tom paced in his hotel room, waiting, praying for the knock on the door. It had been fourteen years—fourteen years since the last time he’d seen Loki, and so much had changed in that time. Tom had tried not to think of him, tried not to give in to the overwhelming regret that he had let Loki go, but every now and again it rose to the surface, completely incapable of being stopped. When Tom had heard Loki’s voice from behind him in a London café, his heart had nearly stopped. Loki’s timber was deeper now, his Norwegian accent less noticeable, but it was unmistakably him. 

When Tom had taken Loki to the airport fourteen years ago, he had convinced himself that it was okay to let Loki go. They each had their own lives to live, after all, and they were so young. He couldn’t have fallen in love, not in just one semester. So they parted, said their goodbyes and admitted that maybe it was better if they didn’t try to contact each other for a while. That didn’t mean never, they had assured themselves, just to wait until they could look at each other as nothing more than friends. 

Tom never reached that point. 

By the time he had realized his mistake, Loki’s phone belonged to someone else. Someone who didn’t know Loki, who couldn’t pass on a message. Tom hadn’t tried again. But out of the blue, while Tom was waiting for an interviewer, there Loki had been. Tom’s heart had leapt out of its confines, and even hours later had yet to settle down. Loki looked a little different, but so did Tom. Where Tom had taken to straightening his hair, Loki had grown his out to his shoulders. His face was more angular now, but his lips were just as pink, and like Tom he had filled out his taller form well. But what struck Tom the most was the eyes. They were every bit as green as Tom remembered and more, but they were no longer open to him, unguarded and content. There was a wall there, not just against Tom but against all the world, and Tom hated it. 

That hadn’t kept him from leaping up, taking Loki’s proffered hand and shaking it vigorously. His smile had nearly split his face, and for a moment he felt like a schoolboy again. Loki’s responding smile was small and tight, as if he had forgotten how to show happiness, but not forced, and Tom counted that as at least one good thing. When Tom had immediately asked him how he was doing with flawless Norwegian, Loki had looked pleasantly surprised. 

“You still remember Norwegian,” he said, his tight-lipped smile broadening a little more.

“I could never forget something that pertains to you,” Tom said honestly. 

Loki looked both touched and frightened at having been touched, but just as he was about to say something Tom’s interviewer came up. Tom panicked. They couldn’t say goodbye yet. They hadn’t even talked! But Luke had worked wonders in getting this interview, and Tom couldn’t say his career wasn’t important to him. Loki smiled ruefully before Tom could say a word, extracting his hand from Tom’s and saying, “Well, it was good to see you again, Tom. Have a good day.”

“Wait!” Tom begged, grabbing Loki’s hand before he had walked out of range. When Loki turned Tom implored, “The Monica Hotel, room 418. I’m free all night after 6. Please.” Loki looked at him for a long moment, a hopeful, distrustful look, before pulling his hand away again. 

“We’ll see,” had been all he said. 

It was 8:30, and Tom hadn’t been able to sit still for more than four seconds before he felt the need to get up and do something. He had to believe Loki would come. The Loki he had known would never deny his own wants, and it had been clear to Tom when they parted that Loki had wanted to say yes—but this man wasn’t the Loki he knew anymore. It had been so long, and Tom didn’t know what had happened in the other man’s life, but clearly something had made Loki shut away. Tom wanted to help him, draw him back out of his shell into the happy young man Tom had known so well, but he knew full well he may never get the chance. 

It was another agonizing forty-five minutes before there was a knock on the door. Tom, who had been trying to busy himself with dusting and rearranging and redusting the shelves of the bookcase, stood frozen for a split second in sheer unadulterated terror, then ran at full tilt towards the door and the man waiting behind it. 

Tom had to remind himself not to wrench open the door, instead easing it open to find—thank God!—Loki looking at him warily. Tom almost forgot to breathe. He schooled his features with years of acting technique, not knowing what would frighten Loki into leaving (because he looked so ready to leave, like maybe he hadn’t planned on coming here at all but his traitorous legs had led him to Tom’s door anyway) slipping on a mask of calm. It helped him clear his mind, as well. He allowed a small, very real smile as he stepped aside to open up the doorway. 

“Come on in,” he said. “I’ve just put some tea on. I suppose you’ve eaten?”

“No, actually,” Loki said, stepping through the threshold. His stance belied none of his inner turmoil, though he couldn’t guarantee he was keeping it off his face. He wanted to act sure of himself, wanted to be strong, but being here, in front of Tom again, he felt small. Broken, next to Tom’s radiance. “I don’t suppose you’d have some of that granola you always kept around?”

Loki almost melted at the sweet little ‘ehehehe’ that Tom let loose. Loki had never forgotten that laugh, not ever. “I’ve got better things than that, if you’re hungry,” Tom said, ever the gentleman. The door quietly shut behind Loki, and Loki had to fight the feeling of being trapped. This was Tom—Loki was never trapped with Tom. “I’ve got a spare box of lasagna, if that sounds good, or some Caesar salad. And don’t tell my dietitian, but I do happen to have some mint chocolate chip ice cream.” Loki couldn’t help but let his lips quirk upward at the warm glint of mischief in Tom’s blue, blue eyes. 

“Well, you know how much I love mint,” Loki said nonchalantly. Tom beamed, bright as the sun. 

“Of course I do,” he said, turning around to go to the mini-fridge. Loki took the opportunity to really look at him. He looked good; he’d built some muscle, for a role if Loki remembered correctly, and had started straightening his hair. His clothing style had changed, as well, from t-shirts and jeans to well-tailored trousers and a light blue button-up shirt. He moved with more grace, as well, carried himself with more confidence, but as sophisticated as he seemed now Loki could still see hints of the silly young man he’d known. 

Clearly Tom had kept his humility, and a quick glance around the hotel room showed that it was just a normal hotel room. It wasn’t a suite or a fancy, larger room, just a regular old room with a single bed at the far end, a couch, a desk, and a small table. It was nothing like their dorm room. It didn’t feel lived in at all. 

Loki sat on the couch rigidly, while Tom seemed much more relaxed. That was just the outward eye, however, and Loki could tell because Tom’s neck was just slightly more stiff than it should have been. Loki had always been able to spot a lie. Tom was tense, but Loki couldn’t pinpoint why; was it because Loki was here, intruding on Tom’s perfect life after all this time? Or was it a more hopeful kind of anticipation? Loki remembered the look on Tom’s face when he’d asked Loki to come over. That kind of desperation couldn’t be faked, right?

Before Loki could think too hard about it (which he knew he was wont to do), Tom started talking. His tone was perfectly calm, but Tom always talked when he was nervous. “It’s good to see you again,” Tom said. “What are you doing in London?”

“I decided I liked it here, so I came back after grad school,” was all Loki said. Tom tried not to let his smile fall. Simple answers had never been Loki’s style; he liked to go into detail, liked to wring every bit of story out of it as he could—a natural storyteller, Tom had always thought—and to hear him answer so shortly, almost clipped, just reinforced what Tom had already noticed. Loki was guarded. He was frightened. 

“That’s wonderful,” Tom said. “It is certainly an incredible place.” There was a half second pause, then Tom said, “You know, the funniest thing happened on set today. We were shooting a scene where one of the other actors is in the shower, and poor Paul—that’s my costar—fell flat on his bum before the water was even turned on. He was fine, of course, otherwise it wouldn’t be funny at all, but he’s a pretty fresh actor and he just looked so embarrassed. He turned red as a radish, poor chap.” Tom chuckled. “What’s happened with you lately?”

There it was, the question Loki had been dreading. The question that had made Loki waffle about coming here at all. He’d told himself that he could just change the subject—to Tom’s family, maybe, since Tom had always been able to talk about them at length—but with those big baby blues turned so hopefully on him, it was hard for Loki not to blurt everything out. But he wasn’t that boy anymore, he couldn’t be that open. He’d forgotten how, and he knew it would hurt Tom when he found out. 

“Not much,” Loki managed to say with some semblance of nonchalance. “So your costar, Paul. Is he fun?” 

Tom’s eyebrows knit. “Yeah, he’s a real good guy. Worked in banking for 30 years before deciding to become an actor,” he said, but his voice sounded preoccupied. Loki could tell what was coming, so he headed it off.

“What about your mum?” Loki asked. “How is she doing?”

Tom faltered again, but regained himself with the same speed as always. Loki could see he was concerned, and could see that he didn’t want Loki to notice. Guilt felt heavy in Loki’s chest. “She’s well. So are Sarah and Emma, and Dad, as much as that curmudgeon can be. You know.”

“I do,” Loki said, trying not to let any second of silence intrude. He knew that if it did Tom would ask, and Loki wasn’t sure he could avoid it again. “Say hello to them for me. They were always so kind.”

“I’m sure they’d love to see you,” Tom said carefully, eyes intent on Loki’s reaction. “They really do love you.”

Loki had to bite back the bitter And what about you? that begged to be set free. Tom didn’t deserve that—didn’t deserve to be an outlet for Loki’s pain. He knew Tom had loved him. Whether he still did it was hard to tell. 

But that moment of self-control was all the slip-up that Tom needed. “Loki,” he implored quickly but softly, “I can tell something’s wrong. I don’t want to press you—“

“Then don’t,” Loki snapped. It came out much harsher than he intended, and the flash of pain on Tom’s perfect face made him want to shrivel. He checked his tone and said, “I don’t want to talk about it, Thomas. Just leave it at that.”

“Du vet at jeg ikke kan,” (You know I can’t) Tom said. He saw Loki flinch at the use of his native tongue—it was the closeness of it, Tom thought. The memories they shared, the care they had taken with one another, the feelings Tom still had; everything was wrapped up in this language. “Please, Loki, don’t close off from me. Vi var alltid nærmest hverandre.” (We were always closest to each other.)

“Alltid?” (Always?) Loki spat. “Vi kjente hverandre for et par måneder. Det betyr ikke noe nå.” (We knew each other for a few months. It doesn’t mean anything now.) 

Deep pain bit at Tom’s chest, but he forced himself to remember that all men, when hurting, will lash out. Loki had always been skilled at hurting others when he needed to. It was only proof that he was in pain. 

“It does to me,” Tom said, so softly it could hardly be heard. There was a second—half a second—where those words hung in the air, then Loki catapulted himself off of the couch with a scoff. 

“You always were sentimental,” was all he said as he stormed toward the door. And Tom knew, knew without the slightest hint of doubt, that once that door closed between them it would never open again. The fates, or God, or destiny, had chosen to bring them together again, but if Tom failed here they would both be left with gaping wounds. Desperation clawed at him. He leapt up after Loki, rushing after him. 

“Loki, vent!” (Loki, wait!) he pleaded, shoving himself between Loki and the door. Loki scowled at him, his whole face a storm as he tried to shove Tom’s heavier form out of the way. “Loke, takk. Du er smartere enn dette. Du må vite at jeg er ikke her for å skade deg.” (Loki, please. You’re smarter than this. You have to know that I’m not here to hurt you.)

“Så hva er du her?” (Then what are you here for?) Loki nearly shrieked, pulling with both hands now to get Tom out of his way. Tom could see he was desperate to get out of here—Tom was desperate to make him stay. “Å le? Å hovere? Gratulerer, er livet herlig! Move, damn you!” (To laugh? To gloat? Congratulations, your life is wonderful!)

“Is that what people have done?” Tom asked. “Hvem skade deg? Hvem gjorde du hater verden? Fortell meg! La meg hjelpe deg!” (Who hurt you? Who made you hate the world? Tell me! Let me help you!)

“Du gjorde!” (You did!) Loki screamed, voice cracking. Tom’s every muscle locked up—Loki took the opportunity to pry him away from the door in one quick tug, but before Loki could turn the knob Tom was on him. Tom couldn’t let him leave. Not now. Not like this. All Tom could think to do was grab him, physically push him up against the door with both arms pinning Loki’s own arms to his sides. “Get off me!” Loki nearly sobbed. “Get off!”

“Ikke liker dette! Jeg kan ikke ... Jeg kan ikke forlate deg som dette.” (Not like this! I can’t…I can’t leave you like this.) Tom’s own voice gave out as his throat closed up. Here he was, with the man he hadn’t known he loved back in his arms again, but it was nothing like what he had dreamed. Loki fought against him, but Tom held him closer and sobbed quietly into his hair. 

“Ikke mer! Ikke mer av dette, vær så snill ...” (No more! No more of this, please…) Loki’s voice trailed off, losing all its strength and momentum. His struggles became half-hearted. It hurt, to be held like this again. It hurt to want to be held. It hurt to be anything other than alone, where he couldn’t be hurt any more. Traitorous tears filled his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He remained rigid in Tom’s arms, ignoring how every fiber of his being longed to turn around and sob into Tom’s chest, to hold Tom close and comfort him. To say that it wasn’t true, that it wasn’t Tom’s fault, that he had always understood that Tom wouldn’t want him. But that wouldn’t be true. Losing Tom had been the first step on a long road to destruction. It had made Loki more vulnerable to what happened next, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t bitter. He could feel Tom shaking with his sobs. 

Slowly Tom’s rational mind crept back in. With a bile taste in his mouth, he recognized that he couldn’t hold Loki here forever. If Loki was going to walk away, he was going to. Loki had always been so stubborn that way. 

It made Tom want to cry all over again, but as his sobs slowed to sniffles he knew that he’d already lost. Loki was stiff in his arms, like a statue made of cinderblock, immovable and determinedly alone, and Tom knew he’d forced Loki to stay longer than Loki wanted to. He pried his arms off of Loki slowly, so slowly, like metal groaning as it was forced to twist. Tom belonged like this, holding Loki; Loki didn’t belong here, with Tom. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom choked out, allowing his hands to rest for a heartbeat on Loki’s biceps before he stepped away. He immediately missed the warmth of Loki against him. “Just know that I’m yours, whether you want me or not. And if you’re ever ready, you can be mine too. Jeg vil elske deg for resten av livet ditt, når du er klar.” (I’ll love you for the rest of your life, when you’re ready.)

The end of Tom’s declaration was cut off by the slam of a door. Loki had bolted as soon as he’d realized Tom wouldn’t stop him, and Tom was left staring blankly at the floor. He felt utterly numb, defeated and hollowed out. He stood there for a long time, not thinking anything, before he dragged himself to his bed. He had work in the morning. 

Outside the wind bit at the tears on Loki’s cheeks as he hurried back to his empty home.


	8. Eternity with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHA! At last, I have continued this AU line! I felt like I couldn't leave it hanging (not that this chapter is any better...) But hey, at least it's still going, right? Let me know what you think! This AU isn't over yet ;)

“How did you know how to contact me?” Thor asked, voice heavily accented and scratchy from crying. He and Tom sat beside each other next to Loki’s catatonic form. A car accident, the hospital had said—Loki was lucky his heart was still beating, but his body refused to rise from its comatose state. It had been like this for weeks. Thor had only just arrived.

“I got lucky,” Tom said. “I have a wonderful publicist capable of working absolute miracles. I don’t actually know who he had to ask, but it’s him to thank.” Thor nodded solemnly. In the few hours since he’d stepped foot in the hospital, he and Tom had hardly spoken. It wasn’t that Tom didn’t like Thor—he had never met him, truthfully, only heard Loki talk about him during their semester together—or that Thor seemed to dislike Tom. There was just something about the situation that seemed too somber for words.

Tom remembered the screeching and the sirens, and shuddered. He had heard the crash, it had happened just below his hotel window. Alarmed and startled out of sleep by the metallic ripping and crunching of two cars colliding, he had rushed onto the balcony and immediately recognized the car he had seen Loki driving away in. It even had the same bumper sticker.

Tom tried to shake those thoughts away, but he couldn’t. He had hardly slept since, and knew he wouldn’t until Loki woke. If Loki woke.

The hospital staff were uncertain Loki would ever see the light of day again. They started to drop subtle hints that it may be better to turn off the machines. Loki was too young to have a will and testament, so the only person who would have even the slightest idea of what Loki would want was his brother Thor.

Tom tried to ignore the sting of admitting that he didn’t know Loki anymore.

“Tell me more about him,” Tom asked quietly, never looking away from Loki’s serene face. So much more at peace than he had been when he’d stormed out of Tom’s hotel room, just a few nights before the crash. Thor looked up at him.

“I don’t know that I knew him,” Thor admitted. His voice was pained and heavy. His English was phenomenal. “Until you called, I had no idea where on this earth he had run to.”

“What was he running from?” Tom asked, soulful blue eyes finally making contact with Thor’s. Thor looked at his hands in his lap.

“Us,” he said. “My father. Me. I never…I thought we were friends. I didn’t realize how much I hurt him.”

“Thor,” Tom implored quietly, “please tell me.”

Thor’s whole body shuddered with his shaky inhale. At length, he said, “There were a lot of factors at work. My father lied to Loki, and my mother had to go with his decision to keep the peace. Even I didn’t know he was adopted. I was too young to remember. Loki found out after…after our mother’s death. She was murdered. In our own home. Then everything came to light.”

“I am so sorry,” Tom said, chest hurting for all that Loki had suffered, and for the suffering he could see plain as day on Thor’s face.

“She was the only good part about our family,” Thor said. “I thought we were perfect, but looking back all I see is a broken home. My father meant well, but he could be a tyrant. Nothing we did was ever enough, especially not Loki. My father always overlooked Loki’s strengths to nitpick at his weaknesses, but never did the same for me. I never even noticed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tom reasoned when Thor choked up. “No one is to blame for the actions of their parents.”

“But I am responsible for my own,” Thor said heavily. “I could have invited him to sit with us at lunch. I could have stood up for him on the playground. Don’t get me wrong, if I knew someone was hurting him I hurt them back, but I thought that it stopped after people got the message. But no, they just got more inventive. I was never aware enough of what went on around me. Words never hurt me like they did Loki, and I couldn’t understand why he was so sad all the time.

“Our mother…our mother was the best thing he had,” Thor said. “When she was killed five years ago, Loki lost his only pillar of support. Mom always encouraged him, always told him he was worth it. I think it was her presence that kept my father from being too cruel. For all his faults, he loved my mother. He never wanted to see her sad, or angry. He hated it when they fought. But once she was gone, I think he didn’t know what to do with all that pain and…”

“Loki was the most available target,” Tom finished. His tongue felt like lead.

“Yes,” Thor said, head hanging. “It only took a few months for Loki to disappear. I think between our mother’s death, finding out he was adopted, and then the backlash my father unleashed on him, he just couldn’t take anymore. He didn’t leave a note. He was just gone. He changed his cell phone, deactivated his email accounts, it must have taken weeks of planning. I went by his apartment and everything was cleared out. He took everything with him. I think… I think he hates me.”

“No,” Tom said softly, “no, I promise you he didn’t. I know he loved you, the way brothers do. He talked about you all the time.”

“He talked about you too,” Thor said, smiling through a sniffle. “He told my mother everything, even before you were dating. He really cared about you, from the moment he met you.”

Tom stared at Thor, tears swimming in his vision. He couldn’t speak; just mutely shook his head.

“Don’t deny it,” Thor said. “If you don’t feel the same anymore, that’s—“

“No!” Tom interrupted quickly. “No, no, I do, I do, so much, I…” He dissolved into tears. Thor’s heavy hand rested on Tom’s shoulder as Tom sobbed into his own hands. He regretted everything. Everything, all the way down to that month he had spent trying to put together the perfect date setup. He should have just asked. They had missed so much time.

“We fought,” Tom forced out. “I—I didn’t know he was here, he…he walked up to me, in a café, and he seemed so broken, so closed off and scared—I wanted to help him, to hold him and tell him it was okay. I don’t know what happened. I tried to make him stay. He left. I-I- I just wanted to spend eternity with him—“ Tom cut himself off with a wrenching sob. God, what had he done? He’d been with his soulmate and he’d let him go, not once but twice. How could he have been such a fool? How could he have hurt Loki like that?

Thor’s hand tightened comfortingly on Tom’s shoulder. Tom didn’t know what to do, so he sat there and cried.

_______________

Loki was floating, somewhere between existence and nonexistence where time didn’t matter and everything made sense. There was a numb kind of urgency itching at the back of his mind, but it wasn’t loud enough to pull him from his peace.

He couldn’t remember how he got here, but he had been going somewhere. He had wanted to see someone—someone so very, very important. He had been going to fix something. Something he’d broken by being so broken. He kept trying to remember who it was he had been trying to see, because something in him just told him it was horribly important that he remember, but he could never quite grab the memory. All he knew was that it was someone he wanted to spend eternity with, someone with a golden smile and the gentlest hands. But he just couldn’t remember. And he couldn’t wake up.


	9. Lullaby and Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom would do anything to hear Loki sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving on from our previous AU arc, a completely unrelated story that sincerely creeps me out. This was originally a sweet little thing with Loki and baby Tom, but that is definitely not how it turned out. I think this is a little more original. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and please comment!

Loki had the most beautiful singing voice. He never used it, not unless he was washing the blood from his hands. Then he hummed the happiest tunes. 

Tom never said anything, but he knew what was happening. His lover would always hand Tom some warm milk on nights when he brought back the whores, and it always tasted a little odd and made Tom sleep so deeply. Tom always awoke to Loki singing, the water running, and the hooker nowhere to be found. 

Tom never moved from where he lay. Sometimes he couldn’t; sometimes the drug wasn’t out of his system yet and his body wouldn’t listen to him. Most times he just didn’t move. Then Loki would come and lay down next to Tom, his perfectly clean hands caressing Tom’s side soothingly as Loki sang quietly. Tom let Loki slide into his pliant body from behind, still singing, and Tom let Loki bring them to slow, sweet orgasm. That beautiful baritone would keep sliding through the air as Loki nestled close to Tom, still buried in him, and Tom let it lull him to sleep.

He knew those women had families. He knew the police were looking for answers. He knew he should come forward, for the good of every woman who had died and who would die yet. 

But Loki only sang when he was washing the blood from his hands.


	10. All My Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is an all-or-nothing kind of man, and Tom knows which end of the spectrum he comes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for mentions of sex. My apologies for the huge amount of angst in this chapter. I just felt the need to write Loki really in-character, since I often write him more caring than I feel like he actually would be. (More specifically, he's more open with his emotions, and I definitely don't think that's a Loki thing.) So I figured, hey, have some trust issues! That's definitely a Loki thing. Tom, actually, is a little out of character, because there's a moment (you'll see it) where he questions what he would do if Loki asked him and I feel like Tom would definitely not inhibit his own moral code for another person, but whatever. It's fiction. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Tom learned very quickly that Loki was an all-or-nothing man. That meant many things: Loki would dip a toe into the proverbial water, testing the temperature, and then if he thought he would survive it he jumped. He did that with everything. Food, spells, mischief, his pathetic attempts at doing things properly (what he had dubbed “The foolish Midgardian way"), sex. Friendship should have been the same, right?

But Tom never seemed to notice Loki testing the waters there. Though he and Loki were…something, Tom didn’t know what. They had sex, when Loki wanted/demanded it, they lounged around doing nothing, and sometimes Loki would come over just to play pranks on his helpless whatever-you-call-what-they-were. It aggravated Tom to no end. 

Everything was on Loki’s terms. Loki got what he wanted, always, and that included from Tom. Tom, after all, was hopelessly in love with the man. There were very few things Loki could ask him that Tom would not do, and Tom could only be grateful that he hadn’t yet found out how deep that alliance went. If Loki asked Tom to trip an old lady, Tom honestly didn’t know if he would do it or not. 

Tom knew Loki only found Tom desirable because they shared a face, and Loki was the ultimate narcissist. Tom knew the only reason Loki came to Tom was because Tom wouldn’t call the cops if Loki’s pranks went too far. Tom knew Loki only stayed after sex because he was always hungry afterword, and he knew Tom would feed him. Tom was nothing to Loki, except maybe a pretty toy, to be used and thrown away when the glitter wears off. Tom knew when that day came he would break into tiny pieces that no one could pick up. 

Tom would get old. Loki would leave. Tom had always known that. 

But Tom also knew that Loki needed him. Loki wouldn’t admit it, maybe didn’t even know it, but he needed someone who understood him without judgment, who looked at him with compassion instead of pity, who was willing to give him everything, even if just for a moment. Tom couldn’t leave Loki alone. Not again. 

Tom didn’t have Loki’s trust, but Loki had all of Tom’s.


	11. Dying Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some lights that cannot be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G. Just a little drabble to get me rolling again! I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated. My studies are kicking my butt in the best way! I appreciate your patience. Enjoy!

There are some lights that cannot be seen. But they can be felt, by those that have the power.

When Loki was small he had asked his mother about the lights. He had tried talking to Thor about them, because they were brothers and brothers are supposed to help each other, but his revered older sibling had not had any insight. Thor could not feel them, and Loki didn’t understand. The more people he asked, the more it seemed he was singular. No one else knew the lights. 

Frigga had been overjoyed, in her own gentle way. She had sat Loki down and explained softly that these lights he felt were lives. They were the living, breathing people who were his beacons. He would never be alone.   
But the lights had faded. 

They had flickered out, one by one, and for a while a new one would replace any lost. Loki still mourned for those people he had never met, never knowing who or where they were, but he never felt alone. But slowly the light had dwindled. One day, one light snuffed itself out and was not replaced. 

Loki had cried then. He had been young still, not quite old enough to be called a man, but in that moment he knew a loss that would make most men fall to the ground in agony. From that moment on there was a dark space in the cavern of his head. 

Like all bad things, the darkness bred more darkness. The lights all died, and Loki was helpless to stop them. If he was king, he could find these people, these people who lived such short lives compared to his own—Midgard, then, perhaps? Midgardians lived such succinct lives—but the throne was not his to have. Somehow, he had always known that. 

He spiraled. The darkness overwhelmed him. He was alone. 

In his cell, after all was said and done, he had nothing to hold on to. There were no more lights. There were no more beacons. 

He started awake, feeling a warmth he had not felt in almost a century. A light. Burning bright and unstoppable, and this one had a name. No other light had been so clear, no other light had form and function and such detailed existence. Loki did not know why, but he knew this person. The light punctured the veils between the realms and burst into Loki’s consciousness, and Loki was not alone. 

Loki knew where this man was—for it was a man, or would be a man. A child still, but with the makings of everything Loki had wished he could be. A new soul, brought into the world, and he was found on Midgard. His name was Tom.   
And Loki could not speak to Tom, could not see Tom, but he knew Tom was there. He knew where Tom went, when Tom was happy, when Tom was sad. He knew when Tom needed his family and when Tom needed to be alone. Loki had never known with any other light. Loki knew. And even if Tom didn’t know, even if Tom never knew in all his life, Tom saved Loki. Even if Loki rotted away in this cell for the rest of eternity, he would always know he had had Tom. Even if Loki had to lose Tom, Loki was, for one instant, not alone.

Loki was, for one instant, saved.


	12. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Tom could remember was the shuddering body dying on the cell floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for character death. My apologies for the angst.

It was poison that had done it. 

They had been so happy, just the two of them. Tom and Loki, Loki and Tom, inseparable and equal, blissfully imperfect. People loved Tom. Loki loved Tom, and that was why Loki was allowed to live. Tom had always been headstrong when it came to his loved ones, and he had not backed down when Odin had wanted to end Loki’s life. A negotiation had been reached. If Tom stayed in prison with Loki for ten years and remained unharmed, Loki would be released to his old chambers in the palace, with Tom at his side. 

Tom had quickly become known as the odd but kindly Midgardian who reigned in the god of mischief. People came into the dungeons to talk to the man who aged so swiftly but lived with the heart of a child. Tom loved these people, and Loki loved seeing Tom happy. The dungeons had never been so cheerful.

There had been issues, of course; spending every second of ten years together got stressful. But they did it. They’d almost done it. 

It was the last night they would have to spend in the cell that was their world. The last night of ten years of relative solitude. They had been celebrating, Tom perhaps even more than Loki. Tom was such a social man, and being unable to be his natural exuberant self had been so hard on him. 

They had laughed, Loki’s walls softening at seeing Tom so happy. That had probably been what killed him. 

At first it had just been a twitch. A tremor. But within moments Loki’s eyes were rolling back and his body was convulsing on the floor and Tom was screaming for the guards. It was too late. 

Tom hadn’t even had time to cry. 

The funeral was beautiful. For some reason, Tom was bitter about that. For all the ugliness they had thrown at Loki in life, they seemed to have no problem loving him now. This was a world where how you died meant more than how you lived. 

Tom had always tried to be a happy man. He'd returned to Earth and hugged his mother and made up a story for the cameras. Kidnapped, he’d said. Kept as a pet, finally running when the opportunity came. The investigation turned up no leads.  
Tom acted, more to convince himself than the masses. For the cameras, yes, but even when he was alone in his house. That was when he acted the most. Maybe if he pretended he was okay, he would be. He tried to think of Loki as he had been, but all Tom could see in his head was the shuddering, dying body on the cell floor. Even his memories of Loki were poisoned. And if anyone asked why his search history was full of research on deadly concoctions, well, he had always been a good actor. Just not good enough to fool his own heart.


	13. Master and Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets an opportunity he cannot turn down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for sexual content. Also, please note that the title says SERVANT, not slave. I don't condone slavery, so it isn't in here. This is another AU arc, because I seem to like those. I'm thinking of compiling each arc into their own separate stories. It would be the same material, just separated from the challenge. What would you think about that? Also, I'm sorry for the long lack of updates. Life has been hectic, but I'm trying to get back on it! Please enjoy.

Loki was a fair master—fair enough, his servants would say. Certainly fairer than he was rumored to be throughout the town; he was not only one of the wealthiest citizens of this pathetic dukedom, but a sorcerer as well. People did not look well on sorcerers. At least in today’s day and age people like Loki were not hunted down and killed. 

Still, Loki was very careful when he was out in the town, though he rarely was. He made it a point to appear as strong as possible, and though that often meant appearing aggravatingly pompous it kept the townspeople from banging down his door in the middle of the night. It didn’t hurt that he was well-known as one of the most powerful mages this side of the mountains, or that he did at least some good for the poorer people of the town.

Not that he was a charitable man, oh no, but at least when a family was struggling for money he would allow them some of his—for a price.

That price being someone of their family. 

Not that he killed them, or even was cruel to them. He wasn’t. He treated them with strictness, but also with some modicum of compassion, and as long as they were in his service the family would receive a payment—Loki did not keep slaves. Once the family no longer needed the extra money, the servants were even free to leave. It was not Loki’s fault that many of them never got the opportunity. Many of the families who offered a child or a wife became complacent, knowing that they would have the money once a month without having to do a thing to work for it.

Thomas’ family was not among those. Thomas’ mother and father had divorced long ago, when Thomas was a boy, and his father left the town entirely. It was difficult for a single woman to find enough work to feed three children, and it had been Thomas who had offered himself up to work for Loki. His mother had been devastated, his sisters dumbstruck, but young Thomas had been resolute. He had been only sixteen.

Since then, Thomas’ family had done their best to get Thomas back. It was refreshing, to say the least. It had been years since the day Thomas had come into Loki’s household, and Thomas was easily Loki’s most trusted servant. He did what he was told, did it in a timely manner (usually with a smile), did not complain, worked hard, and was unerringly kind to both the other workers and to Loki himself. Loki had taken quite a fondness for the young man, now twenty-five years of age and dashingly handsome. He may even have been able to say they were friends. He would miss Thomas greatly when his time here was through.

Loki wished all of his servants could act as Thomas did. He frowned at the book page he was reading, thinking of Christian; Christian had been caught stealing from Loki when he thought he would not be seen. By law, Loki had the right to behead him for his insolence. He was still deciding whether or not he was going to.

Loki sighed, putting the book down and rubbing his temples. He had tried to get his mind off the problem for a moment by reading, but clearly it had not done what he had been hoping it would. He knew a man’s life was in his hands, and he did not take that lightly as he had when he was younger. He needed a break from the issue, but clearly he would not find one. It was greatly aggravating. There was a timid knock at Loki’s bedroom door, and Loki set the book aside.   
“Enter,” he called, and was pleasantly surprised when Thomas stepped through the doorway. 

“Ah, Thomas,” he said, “come in. Is something bothering you?” It surely appeared that there was. Thomas’ hands were crossed in front of his hips, a sure sign he was uncomfortable, and his head was hung so low that nearly all Loki could see was that curly mop of yellow hair. Thomas’ broad shoulders were slumped, his whole body tense, and for the first time in nearly ten years Loki could say Thomas looked frightened. 

Loki sat up straighter, immediately concerned. Never had Thomas appeared to be scared, let alone scared of Loki—for that was certainly what he was afraid of, at the moment. Servants were never supposed to meet the eyes of their masters, but at least Thomas would usually look to Loki’s collar. Now Thomas looked stolidly at the ground by his own feet. Thomas looked like a rabbit in front of a fox, desperate to run but frozen to the spot. Loki felt a pang of deep worry. 

“I would like to ask you a favor, my lord,” Thomas said. His voice was tiny. Loki’s eyebrows shot up; all of Loki’s servants knew that Loki would bestow a favor on those slaves who submitted themselves to him in body for a night, should they please him. That was purely selfish, as it was incredibly difficult for Loki to find willing partners, and was far above forcing himself on someone. But Thomas? Loki could not deny he felt something deep for the younger man, but it was not because they had shared a bed. In fact, Thomas had never come to Loki asking favor before. He was so chaste: he did not seem the type.

“And what favor would that be?” Loki asked carefully, maneuvering his legs over the side of the bed so he could face his servant. He moved slowly, as if any fast movement would snap the last of Thomas’ self-restraint and send him running for the hills. 

“I wish to intervene on behalf of Christian, my lord,” Thomas said, his body stalk-still in a way that appeared painful. Loki was at once vaguely surprised and rather proud that Thomas did not stutter once. “I do not condone what he did—he stole from you, and that is wrong. But please, sir, hear out his reasoning. He just discovered that his wife is with child for a seventh time, and he knows she will need more money to feed all of them. He was to send home the trinkets he took, as he was sure you would not miss them, and his wife could sell them for a little extra coin. I understand that he must be punished, my lord, and I do not ask that he not be—I ask only that his punishment not be death.”

“How could his wife be pregnant?” Loki asked. “I do not allow the servants to see their families unless someone is on their death bed. Unless he has been sneaking out, the child cannot be his.”

“And he knows this, sir,” Thomas said. “And believe me when I tell you it devastates him. He has known long before coming into your service that his wife is unfaithful, but he loves her despite the pain she brings him. He does not know how many of the children he provides for are his in blood, but they are his by rights and he is determined to treat them with fairness and love.”

Loki nodded slowly. Adopted himself, he could not deny that Christian’s ability to care for a child not his own moved him. He wished his own father could have done the same. But Thomas continued:

“I know we are only servants, my lord. I know that we will never be on the level you are on—perhaps we are the lowest of men, but we are men nonetheless.”

This statement sat in the air for a moment, and Loki looked at Thomas discerningly. “And so you would offer your body to save him?” Loki asked quietly. Thomas hunched a millimeter further into himself, but answered nonetheless.

“If you would have me, my lord.”

Loki slowly stood—he no longer towered over Thomas as he had when they were younger. They were now very near the same height. As he stepped closer he asked, “Have you ever been with a man, Thomas?” Thomas seemed to stiffen more, if that were possible.

“No, my lord,” he answered. His voice wavered only a little. 

Loki stopped his forward movement, standing too close to Thomas to be friendly but the smallest bit too far to be intimate. “So if I asked you to remove your shirt?” Thomas swiftly pulled his blue tunic over his head, and Loki would have told him where to put it if he hadn’t have been so immediately mesmerized by the skin he had only ever dreamt of. How had Loki never seen all the muscle the young man sported under his clothes? Thomas dropped the garment on the floor, clasping his hands in front of himself again. He still did not look up. 

While Thomas waited tensely for his next order, Loki appraised the beauty that was Thomas’ body. He allowed his fingers to lightly slide over the perfectly smooth skin of Thomas’ shoulders, gliding down to his elbows slowly, almost reverently. Thomas had light freckles dotting his shoulders and upper chest. Loki gazed at them, and Thomas didn’t move an inch. It seemed he was determined to go through with this. 

“Hold your elbows behind your back, Thomas,” Loki instructed gently. Tom hurried to comply, as if he were afraid that if he didn’t complete his task with the utmost swiftness Loki would become angry with him. Something inside of Loki hated that, but he made no comment. Instead, he walked around Thomas until he was standing directly behind him, which only made Thomas stand more stiffly. 

From here Loki could see the fear that bunched in the muscles of Thomas’ back and shoulders, and he gently laid his hands on those shoulder blades in an attempt to calm his servant. “Relax, Thomas,” he murmured, and Thomas took it as an order, slowly forced himself to be less tense. Loki helped him along, sending little waves of magic out to help relax the muscles. “Good. There you are. Can you stay that way?”

“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said. 

Loki waited a moment anyway, making certain that Thomas was calmer before slowly tracing the muscles of Thomas’ back with a finger. Thomas fought to keep relaxed, but he did a valiant job and did not wind up his muscles further. Loki took his time exploring, gently mapping the expanse of Thomas’ lovely back. He was built, far more built than Loki had anticipated, probably as much from his enjoyment of physical activity as from the work he did. Loki loved the smoothness and the definition. It was fitting. 

As he mapped, Loki tried to plan. There was so much he wanted, so much he needed, and so many ways in which he needed it. He wanted to be slow, he wanted to be languid, he wanted to worship and adore Thomas’ body, but he had only an afternoon. One afternoon in which he could show Thomas everything that needed showing. One afternoon in which to release so many years of pent up longing. It was not enough time. But Loki would make the most of it.

Loki had been experimenting with magic in the bedroom far before he ever had a lover with whom to share the experience; he knew just what to do, when, and how much, and he was determined to use this power to Thomas’ benefit. 

The first waves were gentle, radiating a calming, arousing heat from where Loki’s hands had settled on Thomas’ slim hips. It was so slight, just the barest hint, but it was enough to make Thomas start slightly. “Relax,” Loki murmured, and Thomas did his best. Slowly, though, as the magic grew more familiar, Thomas’ body calmed on its own; it was not a matter of being uncomfortable that had forced Thomas to jump, but a matter of feeling something new and unexpected. As Thomas settled into the sensation, Loki was pleased to note a slow unwinding of the tense muscles. And a notable deepening of Thomas’ breaths.

They were measured, equal and carefully monitored—Thomas’ way of keeping control, Loki knew—but they were deeper and fuller and Loki knew Thomas was getting aroused. Loki yearned to look over Thomas’ shoulder, see the stirrings in his servant’s trousers, watch it rise from nothing but some simple magery, but he feared Thomas’ reaction. The young man had always been so embarrassed of bodily functions, blushing madly whenever another servant brought up mention of sexual intimacy, and the last thing Loki wanted was to make Thomas uncomfortable. He knew Thomas would never speak up; Thomas didn’t think he could. 

That thought pierced Loki in a way few others had. After all the years of joking together, easy afternoons spent reading together when neither of them had duties, now Thomas felt he was inferior. He had no voice. He could not speak his mind—that brilliant, brilliant mind that had transfixed Loki for years. Loki’s hands unconsciously tightened around Thomas’ hips, just long enough for Thomas (infernally acute as he was) to notice and stiffen again, and Loki cursed the circumstances. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Thomas,” Loki said, and the ragged truth within the words was stark even to his own ears. “If I do something that displeases you, tell me. Please.”

There was a pause. Loki had never said please to a servant, not in all his life, and never had it sounded so much like begging. Then Thomas answered, “Of course, my lord,” and Loki knew that meant Thomas saw the importance of those words. Whether Thomas would speak or not, Loki did not know, but at least now he knew he could. 

Loki allowed the intensity of the waves to grow, increment by increment, just fast enough to keep Thomas from becoming too complacent in his pleasure but slow enough to make certain Thomas felt comfortable. Thomas’ breaths were becoming deeper, almost panting, and Loki could almost see Thomas holding back his little noises. Of course he would; he was probably mortified, the poor man, and Loki had half a mind to stop and just hold him. But he couldn’t do that. Not now.

He wasn’t sure what held him back; maybe it was his own selfishness, maybe it was his typical bullheadedness, but he wanted to bring Thomas to orgasm. He wanted to bask in the beauty of Thomas’ handsome face as the younger man reached completion, he wanted to feel Thomas’ muscles twitch and shudder as Thomas’ pleasure wracked his lean body. He wanted to make Thomas feel precious. 

That could not keep Loki’s own arousal from stirring, however. There was something just about having that warm skin under his hands, the expanse of Thomas’ torso open to his gaze, that pulled something out of Loki that he had trouble putting name to. He was an eloquent man, but this was such an odd mixture of emotions; he was aroused, he was overjoyed, he was bittersweet, he was loving, and all of it combined together in such a heady potion. He couldn’t understand it. 

Thomas slowly began to twitch, mostly in his shoulders and back, as Loki upped the ante more. The whole of Thomas’ muscular legs were shuddering, as if fighting to keep Thomas upright, and Thomas’ hands flexed where they were clasped on his elbows. But Thomas did not move. “Let me hear you, Thomas,” Loki said, and though it was phrased like an order it didn’t sound like one. Thomas nodded stiffly.

The noises came slowly, after that, at first just shuddering exhalations but moving up to little, almost inaudible grunts. Still Loki did not move his hands, allowing his magic to bring Thomas pleasure, but Thomas was slowly growing more and more restless. His body jumped and quivered minutely as the tendrils of Loki’s magic flicked against every inch of the younger man’s skin—both from the inside and the outside. Loki knew Thomas had to be quite hard by now. He wondered if it was uncomfortable. 

Loki continued his assault, letting the magic lick at every fiber of Thomas’ being. Nothing was left untouched, from that adorable belly button to the tips of those long fingers. And of course the more erogenous zones, like the soft skin of Thomas’ testes and the hardened peaks of his nipples, and, slowly, Thomas’ prostate. 

Thomas had let out such a sweet gasp the first time Loki had introduced that aspect. It was clearly a surprise, but a pleasant one. A swift magic finger probing at Thomas’ entrance proved that Thomas had never experimented on this part of himself—in fact, he had started when he felt the gentle touch at his tight hole—but Loki knew that this was the beauty of magic. Loki could stimulate the prostate without discomfort of insertion, which not all men enjoyed despite the pleasure that spot could gain them. Loki removed the magical probe, and Thomas relaxed. 

Loki still kept tingling pressure on Thomas’ prostate, however, and Thomas’ little noises became far more audible. Whimpers and moans started falling from his lips, still quiet but so arousing. Thomas’ shivering increased until it was lightly shaking his whole body, and Thomas was almost rocking his hips. Loki could feel the minute shifts in Thomas’ muscles beneath his hands, but there was no visible movement. 

Loki was burning. Oh, he wanted Thomas so badly. All the things he could show the other man, all the things they could do together, all the pleasures he could bring. But, out of everything buzzing in Loki’s mind, the loudest noise was the desire—the need—to hear Thomas cry out in rapture. These small sounds were lovely, certainly, but Loki was swiftly finding that he needed more. Just to be able to say he brought Thomas to such a point, just to know the sound. It rose like a cacophony in Loki’s head. He needed to hear it. 

He tried to push back that need, to focus on Thomas’ pleasure alone, but by damnable impulse he allowed himself to send out one burst of more powerful magic, focusing it where Thomas needed it most. It was just an instant, just a taste, but it got him what he had so greatly desired. “Ah!” Thomas cried out, his beautiful baritone voice shuddering around them. But Loki had miscalculated, had put too much into Thomas’ inexperienced body, and the overstimulation made Thomas’ legs give out. Thomas fell to his knees heavily. 

Immediately Thomas tried to stand, keeping his hands dutifully behind his back, but Loki recovered from his shock and placed a hand on Thomas’ head to keep him from rising. Thomas tensed slightly, but settled back onto his knees. 

Loki walked around Thomas to the young man’s front, hand still in that curly mop of hair. Thomas tensed, eyes on the ground as Loki’s arousal came in front of his face. Loki took a moment to appreciate the view: Thomas, beautiful Thomas, on the floor of Loki’s bedroom, one knee and one foot on the ground. It looked like Thomas was bowing to a king. Of course the posture was just from Thomas trying to get up, but it was beautiful. Images flashed through Loki’s mind. All the things he could do. 

Loki slowly knelt down in front of Thomas, the hand in his hair moving to his shoulder. “Are you alright?” Loki asked softly. Thomas swallowed thickly. 

“Yes, my lord,” Thomas said. His voice shook. 

“May I continue?” Loki asked. The last thing he wanted was to continue where Thomas wanted an end. Thomas licked his lips nervously.

“Yes, my lord.”

With Thomas’ permission, Loki slowly, gently cupped Thomas’ sex. Thomas started, but Loki could see that it was not from fear. Thomas’ face—that handsome, chiseled face—looked almost pained in its rapture, blue eyes going wide where they stared at the floor. The surprise was palpable, but so was the pleasure, the relief. Finally, he was feeling a real, hard, physical hand against the place that burned for it the most, and Loki knew that relief. How many times had Loki done this to himself? Used his magic to bring himself to full hardness, and only allowing himself to actually touch himself when he thought he couldn’t take any more? But Thomas’ expression—that was so much better than anything Loki could hope to mimic. Thomas was beautiful. 

Loki placed a gentle pressure, avoiding magic for the moment to allow Thomas to adjust, and Thomas’ blue eyes darkened. Thomas’ lower lip found its way between Thomas’ teeth as Loki memorized the feel of that hard, heavy flesh in his hand, which was so warm even through the cloth of Thomas’ trousers that Loki thought it would surely burn him if he were to touch it unhindered. Loki gently used his other thumb to slide that lip out from the grasp of Thomas’ teeth, not wanting Thomas to hurt himself. Thomas’ breath came in humid pants against Loki’s thumb. 

Thomas’ whole body shuddered, his perfect eyes falling shut as Loki began to knead Thomas’ erection. Gently, at first, never too much, but slowly growing in pressure to bring Thomas the most pleasure. The sweet, quiet noises grew again, though Loki could see now the blush that accompanied them. Thomas was ashamed of his reactions, ashamed that he enjoyed this and ashamed that he made such wanton sounds, and clearly completely unaware of what it did to Loki to hear them. 

Loki could feel Thomas’ hardness in his hand now, heavy and long, and his mouth salivated just at the dimensions his hand could give him. Oh, but Thomas was a well-endowed man. Loki yearned to see it, to see Thomas in his complete glory, and felt like a thirsty man without water to know that he couldn’t. Not right then, not when Thomas was so clearly, so utterly embarrassed and ashamed. The last thing Loki ever wanted was to amplify those emotions in Thomas; Thomas, who was always so happy, so kind. and so intense in his compassion that Loki had thought for almost a year that Thomas was just a very skilled liar. But he wasn’t, and Loki had come to adore the sincerity that Thomas brought to everything he did. Such embarrassment did not belong on his face. 

The shame did not dissolve when Loki added a slight hint of magic, though Thomas’ groan was enough for Loki to know he was enjoying it. It simply wasn’t enough to make up for the mortification. Gently, Loki cooed, “I am not judging you, Thomas. Enjoy yourself.”

“I-Is that what you want?” Thomas asked breathily, eyes still closed. Loki’s lips quirked up.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to see you receive pleasure from me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Thomas exhaled heavily. Loki wanted to kiss him. 

That seemed to do the trick, even if slowly. Thomas gradually abandoned his guilt, letting himself slip further into Loki’s ministrations, and his groans became even more beautiful. Even more arousing. The blush stayed on his face, but the tension in his body slowly unwound itself. There was an odd part of Loki that felt distinctly honored to see Thomas like this. It was almost as if, once given permission, Thomas was finally free to enjoy himself. 

The light, humming magic slowly amped up, even as Loki squeezed more powerfully, and Thomas’ moan was absolutely heady with desire. Loki shuddered, his own pants feeling entirely too tight. Loki tentatively pressed magic back onto Thomas’ prostate, careful not to overstimulate him, and the reaction was so beautiful. “Ah!” Thomas cried, back bending as he arched. He was so perfect like that, head thrown back, eyes closed in bliss, chest arching towards Loki’s body. Loki couldn’t help his need to feel Thomas’ skin beneath his lips, and finally gave in to the desire to latch onto Thomas’ long, gorgeous neck. Thomas groaned in appreciation, and Loki felt the very pronounced twitch against his hand. 

Loki licked and sucked lightly at the tendons that stood in sharp relief against Thomas’ neck, at his pounding jugular, at the space just behind his ear. That last spot earned him a gorgeous moan and a light thrust against his hand and the magic it produced, and Loki couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. So Tom’s neck was a sweet spot? Oh, he wished he’d have known. 

Thomas was quaking. He shook all over, like a leaf in the wind, his orgasm clearly approaching. Moans fell from his lips like water as he tilted his head enough to give Loki more room to play. Loki couldn’t get enough of the taste of Thomas’ skin; sweat and pure masculinity, and something distinctly Thomas, danced on his tongue and he felt almost lightheaded with pleasure. He lightly grazed his teeth along the column of Thomas’ neck, and Thomas almost shouted his pleasure. He was grinding against Loki’s hand now, seeking pressure, seeking the end, and Loki marveled that he could make such a composed man give in to his basest desires. But it didn’t feel like manipulation. It felt like trust. 

“Hold on,” Loki entreated. “Cling to me, Thomas.” Thomas’ hands, which had been flexing helplessly where they clasped his elbows, flew to Loki’s shoulders, anchoring Thomas to him. Thomas’ fingers dug passionately into Loki’s skin even through the clothes, and Loki adored the heat of them. He nipped and licked at that special spot behind Thomas’ ear, adding just enough pressure on Thomas’ prostate, and suddenly Thomas’ moans were choked off. 

“Ah…ah…hah…aha!” Thomas whimpered, his whole body going tense, pulling Loki closer as his every muscle held itself at attention. Loki was surprised by the force of Thomas’ orgasm, at every defined twitch and jerk of the cock in his hand, at the wetness he could feel even through the fabric of Thomas’ working trousers. His other hand went to Thomas’ waist, holding him close and steady until, a small eternity later, Thomas went lax. 

Thomas fell back onto his heels, his other leg coming down from where it had been with his foot on the ground, but not letting go of Loki. Loki didn’t let go of him either, letting his magic retreat and both his hands rest on Thomas’ muscular waist as he breathed in Thomas’ scent. He didn’t move his head from the crook of Thomas’ neck, nuzzling there. For a moment, just a beautiful moment, it felt like this had been an act of love. 

Loki could feel the moment Thomas remembered who and where they were. Every muscle tensed in fear, and there was only a split second of frenzied movement before Thomas was back on his knees, staring at the ground with his hands clasping his elbows. Loki ached.

“What would you have me do now, my lord?” Thomas asked, voice wavering. Loki felt his brow pucker and attempted to control it. 

“Nothing, Thomas,” he said gently. Thomas looked panicked. 

“Did—did I not please you, my lord?” Thomas asked quickly, on the verge of tears. “Please, if I have been unsatisfactory, give me another chance, please—“

“Thomas,” Loki said softly, and Thomas’ mouth snapped shut. His eyes were brimming now, and Loki remembered what was at stake for him. Thomas thought he had failed to save a man’s life. “Thomas, you were perfect,” Loki said lowly, sincerely. You are perfect. “Don’t cry, please. I won’t kill Christian.” Thomas looked perplexed, his eyes darting to Loki’s crotch where a very prominent bulge was visible. “Don’t worry about that,” Loki said. 

“But…I don’t understand,” Thomas said, voice unusually small. Loki smiled a sad little smile. Of course he didn’t. 

“I have had many come to me asking for favors, Thomas,” Loki said, allowing himself to stroke Thomas’ curly hair. “You alone came to me to help another. This was for you.” And there was such a mix of emotion on Thomas’ handsome face, relief, confusion, gratitude, but the one thing Loki longed for he could not find. 

Loki took his hand from Thomas’ hair. The time for intimacy was past now. “Just rest here, Thomas,” Loki said, standing. “You are released from your duties for the day.” 

Once the door was closed between them, Loki clenched his fists at his sides. There was something inside of him that hurt so much. It hadn’t been worth it. 

But it had. 

Loki composed himself and walked calmly to the library, where he would spend a little time getting lost in literature. He would eat his meal as usual, he would retire to bed as usual, and he would wake up in the morning as usual. Tomorrow would come as usual. And Loki would still be alone.


	14. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not surprised. He didn't expect a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G. This is the SAME AU as the previous chapter. I'm not sorry for the sadness inherent in this AU, I just hope you keep reading because it does get better. There is more to this arc, despite the seeming finality of this chapter, so don't be too sad. I hope you enjoy!

Apparently Loki knew nothing of fate. 

Loki did not go to bed as usual that night, he did not wake up with the same thoughts as he always had. He did not make banter with Thomas when the younger man brought him breakfast, he did not laughingly remind Thomas about that one time when he managed to get Thomas to read a rather racy novel, having claimed it to be an epic love story. He did not spend the rest of his life pretending nothing had happened. 

Because Thomas went home. 

Loki would never forget when Thomas’ mother, Thomas’ hardworking mother who had more gray in her hair now and creaks in her hands that may be arthritic, was shown into the library. It had been nary two hours since he had left Thomas in his room, two hours that he had tried not to mourn the loss of Thomas’ body against his own. And suddenly he was confronted with the force of a woman determined. 

“I have paid back all my debts,” she said without preamble. “While I am very grateful for all of the financial aid you have sent our way over the years, I want my son back.” 

Loki felt a pit open up inside of him. Every organ in his body seemed to drop into it, leaving him without lungs to breathe or a heart to ache at the knowledge that it was over. It was all over. 

“But of course, madam,” he heard himself answer, as if from outside his own body. He couldn’t feel his lips moving. “Thomas has been a wonderful addition to my staff, but I do not begrudge him the right to go home. If you will but wait here a moment, I will fetch him from his duties.” 

He rushed out of the library before Thomas’ mother could say that she wished to follow him. He was not sure what state Thomas was in, or that Thomas would necessarily wish to hide said state from his mother, but he knew without a shadow of doubt that he needed one moment. Just one more moment with Thomas. That was all. 

It was strange to knock on his own door, but he did not want to startle the man who was inside. Odd, the further he got from the library and Thomas’ mother, the more his chest groaned at its emptiness. It was as if Thomas was already gone, already away and far from Loki’s reach. This was what the rest of his life would be. 

Thomas was still kneeling on the floor, in the exact spot he had been in. Had he truly been so lost in thought that he had forgotten to move? Or by some stretch of the imagination did he want to keep something of what had happened between them? For a split second he looked at Loki, into his eyes, but the moment he realized he was looking not at a fellow worker but his master his eyes fell back to the floor. 

“What may I do for you, my lord?” Thomas asked, clearly fighting to keep some semblance of normalcy to his tone. It seemed he was determined to act as though all was as it had always been, though it was impossible. Something had changed between them, but now Loki would never know what. 

Loki walked over to Thomas, taking a moment to look over every inch of him. He had put his tunic back on, Loki saw, and must have run his fingers through his curls to try to rearrange them. Loki had always noticed Thomas’ freckles, they dusted his face, but now Loki tried to set them to memory the way an astronomer would memorize the stars and their places. Thomas’ lashes were so black, odd given his very blonde hair but no less beautiful, and his nose a perfect, stately kind of straight. The beautiful flush from earlier was gone. 

Loki kneeled in front of Thomas, an echo of what they had looked like not so long before, but this time it was a sorrowful kind of emptiness that filled Loki up. He lingered, trying so hard to draw out the moment, but he could see that Thomas was disconcerted by his silent stare. He had to say it. “Thomas,” Loki said softly. “Thomas, look at me. In the eye.” Thomas hesitated in a way that only years of training could cause, but he looked up. And Loki knew the color of those eyes, had seen them every day for a decade, but to have them looking at him, really at him, made his heart swell and ache all at once. He would never have this again. 

“Is something wrong, my lord?” Thomas asked weakly. Loki smiled, and it tasted bittersweet on his lips. 

“I am not your lord anymore, Thomas,” Loki said. “Your mother is here.”

The change took a moment. It was shock, probably. After so long, his family was here to claim him again—Loki wondered if Thomas lay in bed some nights and questioned if he would ever get to leave this place. Now he could. Thomas’ face was that impossible to describe thing that came upon all men who found their lives changed for the better, with more than a twinge of disbelief. Even like this, Thomas looked beautiful. Loki’s chest constricted hard as the reality hit him. He would never have this again. 

And he wanted to stay, he wanted to kneel next to Thomas and confess all that he had held inside himself for so long, he wanted to beg Thomas to stay, he’d do anything, anything, he wanted to kiss and hold and never let go. He stood. He couldn’t stay anymore. The moment was too much, this had been a mistake. He tried to remain outwardly pleased for Thomas, and he was, truly, all he wanted was Thomas’ happiness, but he knew his eyes told a different story. He couldn’t look Thomas in the eye. 

“I suggest you change your trousers,” Loki said kindly, “and gather your belongings. I’ll entertain your mother in the front foyer, just meet us when you’re ready.” And Loki walked out. 

Making small talk with Thomas’ mother was the hardest thing Loki had ever had to do. He didn’t want to be kind to her. He wanted to wring her neck, choke off her air, slash at her until the walls were red. She was taking Thomas from him. But he didn’t do those things. Thomas loved her, and Loki would never do anything to hurt Thomas. Besides, Loki knew what it was to love one’s mother; he and his own mother, even if not related by blood, were peas in a pod, as the expression goes.

And Loki had meant what he said. Thomas had every right to be happy. 

It felt like a small eternity before Thomas rounded the corner, canvas bag slung over his shoulder. It didn’t look heavy; Thomas must not have wanted to keep very much. Thomas’ mother gasped at seeing her little boy grown, so much taller now than he had been, less gangly in the arms and legs, grown into his proportions. For the first time, Loki saw the change in Thomas. It had happened so gradually that neither of them had really noticed. 

Thomas’ mother (Diana, if Loki remembered, and he remembered everything about Thomas’ life) rushed to her son, embracing him around his middle because he was too tall to clasp around the shoulders as she once had. There was a moment of hesitation in Thomas, because Diana looked different now too, and if they both had changed how could they still be what they were? But he flung his arms around his mother, holding her tight and letting little tears leak out into her graying hair. And Loki knew it was over. 

Loki watched for just a moment, wondering what it would be like for Thomas to hold him like that, for him to hold Thomas, but the thought was too painful to bear. The time for intimacy was past. 

He gave them their privacy, retreating to his room that still smelled a little of Thomas’ sweat, and when a servant came to tell him that Thomas had left he was not surprised. He had not expected a goodbye.


	15. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki had never had much in his life to lose, but sometimes when you lose one thing you gain another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G. This is the SAME AU as the previous two chapters. I promised it would continue! I'm sorry it's so short, but eh. Brevity is the soul of wit, I suppose. The next one will be a good bit longer. I hope you enjoy it, and, as always, please read and review!

Loki had never had much in his life. He had always been the odd one out, the literal black sheep of his golden family. Finally learning about his adoption had made some things make sense, but sometimes sense hurts more than being blind.

He had made something of himself through sheer will, moving far from the reaching arms of his not-father’s name to earn a name of his own, and through his own genius became what he was today. If he owned something, he bought it himself. If he was known for something, it was a talent he cultivated himself. He had made himself from rust to rubies, and he had little but himself to rely on.

But he had his mother. He always had, and somehow had thought he always would. She considered him her son as surely as her firstborn, regardless of the lack of her blood in him. They were family. Even when he left to build himself, he could rely on a letter every couple of weeks or so. She always sent him packages for his birthday and holidays, and he never bothered telling her he was too old for them. On occasion she even visited.

It had been years, now, since he’d seen her face. And he never would again.

The letter had been from Odin, and was typically blunt. “Frigga is dead,” it had read. “Funeral on 12/3.”

The third had been a week ago by the time he received the letter. Somehow he knew that was by design.

The whole estate heard the screaming and crashing coming from Loki’s quarters. The servants cowered, staying far from Loki’s wrath, and Loki raged until there was nothing left in his room to break. He wanted to destroy, to wreck the world, and heavens knew he had the power to do it. His roiling energy would have been enough to drown the mountains and wither the sea.

It was Christian who finally tentatively knocked. “My lord?” he had asked softly, as if just his voice would be enough to spark more carnage. “Is there anything I can do?”

Loki’s mind screamed at him from all directions, as it had been since he had opened the letter. There was only one person left in the world who he could say loved him, only one person who cared the way Frigga had. “Thomas,” he blurted. “I need Thomas.”

~!~

The next time a knock sounded on his door, it was not Christian who stepped through. Loki looked up, ready to snap at whoever entered his room without his permission, but all words died on his silver tongue when he met those blue eyes.

Thomas didn’t look around the room, didn’t survey the damage that Loki stood in the middle of. He stared right into Loki’s eyes, not pitying, not judging, but loving. Those eyes poured out empathy, and Loki didn’t try to fight back his broken sob.

And then Thomas was there, holding him, and it had been years since they’d seen each other and they had never embraced before and Loki cried.

Loki cried so hard that he didn’t notice Christian quietly taking his leave. He cried so hard that he didn’t hear Thomas gently murmuring to him. He just sank to his knees, Thomas following him, and let Thomas cradle Loki’s head to his chest protectively because _his mother was dead._

The loss was so loud inside of Loki, so raw and intense and shredding, that Thomas’ voice couldn’t be heard over it. But Thomas vowed nonetheless.

“I’m here, Loki. I won’t leave you again.”


	16. Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki had always been a magician, but it would take something other than magic to make Thomas stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the end of this AU arc! I'm sad to see it go. I've got a few side stories for this one (all of which are smuttier than this) but I'll put those elsewhere. I don't want to ruin the sweetness factor with sex. Happy New Year, y'all, and I hope you enjoy!

Loki has been born with magic in his bones, and rarely had he felt like his magic couldn’t perform a task for him. But when Loki was finished crying, agony fading into emptiness, he knew that his magic couldn’t keep Thomas there.

They sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. If there had been any furniture left they would have sat there, but Loki was glad he had turned his room to splinters. Like this, he and Thomas could share a space. They sat close enough together that their shoulders brushed, and Thomas had placed his hand over Loki’s where it rested on the ground between them. Loki let it stay. 

They didn’t look at each other, but they didn’t look around the room either. The silence was companionable, like it hadn’t been two lonely years, like they had always sat like this. It didn’t feel like Loki had just laid himself bare, and it didn’t feel like he needed to hide his bleeding core. Despite his vulnerability, he felt safe. Loki didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break the spell, and there was nothing to be said anyway. Just being there was enough.

Loki couldn’t have said how long they sat there, but slowly the knowledge that this was temporary started to gnaw at him. It got deep enough that the peace was upset, and with a silent sigh he prepared to end this. He didn’t know what would happen to him when Thomas left. 

“Thank you for coming, Thomas,” he said. His voice was hoarse from sobbing, and from the knowledge that his moment of solace was over. Even through his pain, he had been grateful for Thomas’ presence, like glue that held him together. But he couldn’t ask Thomas to stay. 

“Of course,” Thomas said. “I couldn’t just leave you.” Loki smiled a little. Oh, how very Thomas that was; to help those in need, every time.

“How is your family?” Loki asked, truly curious. They had seemed like good people, good to Thomas. 

“They’re well,” Thomas said. “Sarah is married, with a son, and Emma’s career is flourishing. I’m afraid I haven’t been much help.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Loki said, looking at Thomas for the first time in so long. He saw every minute change that the years had brought on Thomas, things he hadn’t seen when his grief overwhelmed him. Thomas looked good. He looked healthy. 

“But it is,” Thomas said, looking at the floor. “I’ve been completely unable to find a steady job—I’m too old to start an apprenticeship, and in any case I have no passion for any of those jobs. I’m not sure I could stand doing them for the rest of my life.” Loki’s brow puckered in concern; this was his fault. Thomas had been in his service during the best time of his life, the only time when he was likely to get an apprenticeship. “I’ve been living off my mother since I left your service. And I—I want to come back.”

Loki’s heart stalled, and Thomas looked up at him for the first time. Those blue eyes pleaded with him. “Thomas…” Loki whispered, in disbelief.

“I’m not just saying that because I can’t find anything else,” Thomas said, leaning in imploringly. “Please, please understand that. I loved being here, I loved working for you, and I was a fool to leave. I was a fool to never see.”

“Thomas, you don’t—you don’t have to,” Loki offered weakly. “You’ve always seen, you’ve seen so much.”

“But I never saw how you felt,” Thomas said. “And I’m sorry.” 

Loki’s heart thrummed in his throat. No. No, Thomas couldn’t know, couldn’t know because Thomas would hate him, but Thomas wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t looking at Loki like Loki was a freak, or a monster. Loki wanted to say Thomas was wrong, but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. And Thomas was looking at him like, like—

“It took me so long to see,” Thomas whispered, as if the empty room wasn’t worthy of hearing this. “Not until I’d already left, until I thought long and hard about that afternoon, the way you touched me. The way you looked at me. And then I saw it. I saw every time you’d ever looked at me like that, every time you’d treated me different from the others. And I want that back. If…if you still feel that way.”

“I—“ Loki croaked. “I can’t love you without return. I can’t do that again.” And it was true. It was the hardest thing to say, the hardest thing to feel, but if Thomas couldn’t love him back then having him near would only burn the more. Especially now that Thomas knew. But Thomas just smiled gently, his hand tightening over Loki’s. 

“I would never ask you to.”

Loki didn’t know what kind of magic made Thomas stay, but he could only be grateful that it was there. He turned his hand over and squeezed Thomas’ long fingers, and they smiled together. For once in his life, Loki didn't need his magic to be happy.


	17. Don't Birds Eat Bugs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom's nephew has a question for Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of sorry for the amount of sheer crack in here. But then again, I'm not. This was the only thing I could think of for the prompt, and in any case I thought it was cute. Sidenote: I'm on Spring Break right now, so I can upload stuff, but be forewarned that I will be on a study abroad for a while and won't have access to the internet/computers. I've got a few more things to upload before then, but be ready for the hiatus. Thanks for reading!

“Loki?” Trent asked, waddling in that typical small child way up to the man who always seemed to be around Uncle Tom.

“Yes?” Loki sighed, turning another page in his book. Tom had promised his sister that he would watch his nephew for the evening, but had not factored in being held late at rehearsal, so Loki was stuck with babysitting duty until Tom got back. It had been an entire hour and the vermin wasn’t dead yet. That had to be a sign of Loki’s growth as a “moral being.”

Although it may have more to do with Trent looking entirely too much like his uncle.

“Why won’t anyone tell me about the birds and the bees?” Trent asked, blinking his wide eyes up at Loki. “What is there to know?”

“How do I know?” Loki asked, bored. Why should he care about silly little Midgardian beasts?

“But,” Trent said, crawling up onto the couch next to Loki (and really, it was silly how easily he trusted Loki not to push him off), “everybody else in my class laughs when I say I don’t know. So it’s got to be something special, right?”

“You mean they’re keeping a secret from you?” Loki asked, immediately more interested. And no, it had nothing to do with the slight flare of protectiveness he felt in his chest. He just liked unravelling other peoples’ mysteries.

“Yeah!” Trent said. “And that’s not nice, right?”

“Right,” Loki said slowly. “And what did you say the question was? Birds and bees?”

“Yeah,” Trent said. Loki put his book face down on his lap, humming.

“Well, they both fly,” he mused aloud. “They both build some kind of a home—a nest or a hive. Birds can be brightly colored, and bees are also bright. Did the other children specify which species of birds and bees they were comparing?”

“No,” Trent said. Loki frowned.

“Well, that’s unhelpful. There are several kinds of each animal.”

“Bees are bugs,” Trent put in helpfully.

“Yes, and birds eat bugs,” Loki said. This was becoming quite a conundrum—luckily, Loki loved puzzles. “Is there any other information your classmates have given you that could help us?”

The two of them spent the next thirty minutes putting their heads together, poring over Tom’s library but finding nothing to help them. That was no surprise, given that Tom’s entire collection of books was what mortals thought comprised ‘literature.’ There wasn’t a lick of scientific information in the entire bookcase.

When Tom finally returned, he found his lover and nephew surrounded by a scattering of books. And, oh, Tom knew the determined look on Loki’s face.

“Thomas,” Loki asked without preamble, “what are the birds and the bees?”

Tom paled.

“I-wha-who brought this up?” Tom sputtered. If Loki had started this, Tom would kill him.

“The vermin at Trent’s school have been teasing him for not knowing,” Loki said, “and I have been unable to draw significant parallels between the two. I’m never incapable of solving a puzzle, Thomas!”

“I know you aren’t, love. I, uh…” Tom said his eyes darted over to Trent, who was looking up at him with such excitement. Trent was way too young for this. “You know, I think Trent should ask his mom, and I’ll tell you later, okay?”

The glare Loki levelled at him made Tom cringe.

“You will tell us now,” Loki demanded.

“Please, Uncle Tom?” Trent asked, pouting.

“I…I really don’t think I should,” Tom said, pulling at his collar.

“Thomas,” Loki said warningly.

“Look, it’s really not…Trent needs to hear it from his parents, that’s all. I promise I’ll tell you later. As soon as Trent goes home. Okay, Trent?” Tom said nervously. With any luck he had appeased the younger of the two, and Loki would lose the wind in his sails.

Luckily for Tom, the doorbell rang before anyone could speak again—even better, it was Tom’s sister. Tom looked at her gratefully. “Trent, your mom’s here!” he called. “I’m so sorry,” Tom whispered to his sister, who looked confused, but he shut the door in her face without any further explanation the moment Trent was outside. Tom did not need to hear the explosion that would occur when Trent asked the question again.

Tom sighed, slumping against the door, but it wasn’t a sigh of relief. When he turned around, Loki was staring at him pointedly, daring him with those eyes to withhold the information now. Tom wandered over, ready for a long, awkward night.


	18. Twisted Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki was a fucktoy. It was what he had been for so long, he didn't know who he was without it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! First off, I apologize for the sadness of this chapter. There's hope at the end, but there really are people who are put in situations like Loki's. I hate to get on my soapbox here, but just remember how far kindness can go. Second, my Spring Break is almost over, and then I'll be without a computer for three and a half weeks while I'm overseas. I should have stuff to upload as soon as that's over, though! I hope you enjoy. And remember, I love comments!

Loki was a fucktoy. It was all he’d been since middle school, and it had followed him into college. At his university, it was well known that if you went to Loki’s room in the awkward corner of Tarr residence hall you could get a nice romp in the sheets, regardless of who you were and what you liked. Loki paid extra for a single room just for that reason.

Some people (men and women both, Loki didn’t discriminate) just knocked on his door and fell into his bed, and that was fine. Loki liked sex. He was good at it. Other people liked to go through some motions; the typical things, a dinner out, a decent gift. Loki liked that, because he got a free meal and something he could sell the next day. He made a decent bit of money that way, since a little over half of his ‘companions’ preferred this method. Loki assumed they wanted to assuage whatever future guilt they might feel by convincing themselves they weren’t just using him.

So it wasn’t surprising when Tom showed up at his door one night, looking sheepish but determined, and asked Loki on a date. H, it was surprising that it was Tom, of course. Tom Hiddleston was a popular young man on campus, in terms of both friends and lovers, handsome and kind as he was. He had a reputation for being gentlemanly, dating girls (and the occasional guy) for an appropriate amount of time before taking them to bed. He was known for seeing his relationships through.

But Loki didn’t question why Tom was there—it wasn’t any of his business. He just smiled indulgently and asked when and where.

That was how Loki found himself sitting in a half-full movie theater at 9 o’clock at night, watching some movie that was based on a comic. Tom had asked him to pick the movie, and Loki couldn’t resist his love of comic books. Luckily Tom seemed to enjoy it just as much—his face had practically split in two with his grin when Loki had requested this film. And honestly, Loki was really enjoying himself as well.

The end credits rolled, and Loki looked over to see Tom’s eyes filled with tears. His whole face was the visage of sorrow, which was kind of funny because the ending hadn’t been that heartbreaking. Sad, yes, but not enough to cause Loki anguish. But maybe Loki was defective that way. Tom looked back to Loki, and for a split second the pure emotion in his eyes made Loki’s heart jump painfully. Then Tom smiled, wiping his eyes as he laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Sorry,” he said. “Forgot to hide my manly tears.” Loki smiled back charmingly, dismissing the pain as it dissolved. Silly.

They went for pizza next. That hadn’t been the plan, they were supposed to go straight back, but they were both hungry and Tom seemed to like being spontaneous. Loki was enjoying spending time with the personable man that was Tom, so he agreed to sit and eat. A little delay in the grand finale wouldn’t be so bad.

“No, no, no,” Tom laughed, a mouthful of pizza hidden behind his hand, “that professor is nothing less than brutal. I had him last semester. Don’t you even try to tell me he’s an easy grader!”

“Maybe not an easy grader,” Loki acquiesced, “but an easy target. He makes it too easy.” Tom laughed for a moment before puffing out his chest, crossing his eyes comically. He looked all too much like some mixed up version of Professor Haddings.

“H-he-hey!” he spluttered, raising his voice an octave and swaying side to side jerkily. “Don’t you—don’t you throw—that paper, you—rascals!”

Loki hadn’t laughed that genuinely in a long time.

They walked back to campus, snickering at each other good humoredly all the way. The town was small enough that it wasn’t an impossible journey, and Tom walked close enough that their shoulders brushed occasionally. Loki didn’t move away.

When they were just outside campus, crossing through the small, off-limits garden behind the earth sciences building, Loki felt Tom grasp his hand gingerly. Loki looked over to Tom to find him smiling sweetly. They stopped, as if they had agreed to, and just looked at each other. Oh, Tom’s eyes were so beautiful in the moonlight.

The moment Tom’s lips met Loki’s, soft and gentle, Loki was jolted out of the dream world he had spent the last few hours in. He had enjoyed himself far too much, fallen too hard, and forgotten his role. He wasn’t here for companionship. But when he pressed the kiss, dredging up his passion and willingness, Tom moved away with a slight laugh.

“Hey, slow down there, dynamo!” Tom said, his eyes wrinkling at the sides as he smiled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but there’s no need to rush this.” Loki’s brow wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing!” Loki quickly recovered, smoothing over his face, but Tom’s sudden concern did not fade away. “Really, Tom, it’s nothing.”

“Did you not have fun tonight?” Tom asked softly.

“I did, Tom!” Loki quickly assured. That hurt look didn’t belong on Tom’s face. “I really did. I had a lot of fun.” And he meant it. He’d really loved the night.

“Then I don’t understand,” Tom said. It was like the world had stopped around them, and they just stood on the cobblestone path, facing each other. Tom gently ran his fingers down Loki’s shoulders, his biceps, never looking away. It was like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, Tom, no!” Loki said. “You’re perfect.”

“Then what?” Tom asked. “Your demeanor changed so quickly. Please, tell me so I can fix it.”

But how did Loki say it? How did Loki explain that he was trained not to expect a relationship? Or that it was impossible to believe he’d ever have one? How did he say that a relationship was all he wanted? “I’m a fucktoy,” he finally said. What more was there to say? But Tom’s hand clamped down on Loki’s upper arm, Tom’s face twisting in a pain more potent than any sadness.

“Don’t,” Tom said firmly. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“But I am,” Loki said. He wasn’t being stubborn, for once. He was just confused. Surely Tom had heard of Loki’s reputation? Hadn’t that been why he came to Loki at all?

“No!” Tom said emphatically, stepping closer. “Loki, no. You’re not—you’re not—not that. Never say that about yourself, please.” Loki’s brow fell.

“But—“

“No,” Tom cut him off. “No buts, Loki. You’re a man—a brilliant, hilarious, cunning, mischievous man, and if you refuse to see that on your own then I’ll tell you until you believe me. You’re not a toy, Loki.”

Loki searched Tom’s eyes in the darkness. He hadn’t realized that Tom was a little taller than him, not until that moment. He waited for Tom’s will to crumble, for him to realize he was wrong and walk away, but he stared and stared and it never happened. Loki stared until his vision blurred, until he heard Tom’s gentle soothing coo, until he realized he was crying. Tom wiped away the heat of his tears softly, and Loki hiccupped.

“What am I then?” Loki whispered, shuddering. Tom pulled him to his chest for a tight embrace.

“Oh, Loki. Loki,” Tom murmured, holding Loki close and safe, and Loki sobbed. He sobbed because Tom believed what he said, because to one person on this earth Loki wasn’t something to he used and discarded. Loki didn’t know what that made him. His identity had become so twisted—how had he not noticed it?—and now he didn’t know how to straighten it back out.

But Tom held him closer, and Loki knew Tom would help him.


	19. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki promised he'd come back, and he never broke his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Probably the last update before I'm off. I'm sorry it's so short, but I thought it was cute. I hope you like it!

Loki lied. Often. Almost always.

But when he promised, he meant it.

When Loki swore that he would never strike Tom, Tom believed him. When Loki promised he wouldn’t make Tom’s sister’s children upset, Tom believed him. When Loki vowed that he would stop trying to make Tom engage in sex in semi-public places, Tom believed him.

Maybe that’s why he kept his promises. Tom always believed him. And when Tom promised, Loki believed Tom too.

So Loki knew he shouldn’t be nervous. He stood outside Tom’s door, painted in dirt and gore from the battlefield, scratches deep in his leather armor, paler than he had been with dark circles under his eyes. He knew he looked awful. He was doubting his decision to come straight to Tom now, wishing he’d at least taken a shower or cut his overlong hair—but he had already rung the doorbell, he could hear Tom shuffling closer. It was too late at night, he should have waited until the morning. Tom always needed his sleep, after all, and always disliked when he was woken.

The door opened, and Loki ceased to care.

Tom looked so good. Shirtless, baggy pajama pants, mussed hair, perfect—but Loki didn’t get to look for more than an instant, because the moment Tom realized who it was he launched himself into Loki’s chest. He crashed into Loki’s chest, holding him tight like he was afraid Loki would dissipate like smoke. Tom made a noise, and Loki didn’t know if he was laughing or crying. Probably both.

“Loki!” Tin said, face in the crook of Loki’s neck. “Loki!”

“Oh, hush now,” Loki scolded, though his couldn’t keep his hands from holding or his mouth from smiling. “I promised I’d come back.” Tom laughed wetly. So laughing and crying it was. Loki didn’t know what he’d been worried about.

Tom always believed.


	20. Toying with Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has slept with a woman behind his sugar daddy's back, and in paying the price they both learn something fascinating...and arousing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my sweet bajeezus, I am so sorry! This has taken an absolute eternity, and I am sorry. You may pelt me with rotten lettuce now. I will take it without protest.

Loki walked in a slow circle around Tom’s kneeling form, twitching the cane against Tom’s prone body whenever the desire took him. It always made Tom jerk, but with his hands latched to bars connected to his collar, there was nothing he could do. He could, of course, say his safe word, or snap three times in quick succession, but he wouldn’t. He knew he had gone too far.

“How do those panties taste, Tom?” Loki asked. He wasn’t taunting, no, he was using his Dom voice—perfect calm that just barely covered a shitstorm of hell to pay. He was completely in charge here, and they both knew it. Tom could only whine in answer as the switch hit his exposed side, not hard, but enough to sting. “Not to your liking? I suppose you should have thought of that before you fucked her—and brought a trophy back with you. You should have known I would find them.”

Tom could say nothing, with his mouth full of woman’s underwear. They were cute, Loki could admit, and he bet the woman who had worn them had been lovely. Tom was an attractive young man, just out of Uni but oh so delicious, and Loki noticed how women and men alike fell to their knees just to beg for a taste of him. But they had made an agreement; Loki was Tom’s sugar daddy, and that meant that, while Tom still had autonomy of his own, sex with anyone else was off the table.

And Tom had gone and fucked that up.

The fool hadn’t even bothered to properly hide the knickers. They were practically hanging out of his bag when he returned from a ‘camping trip’ with his Uni buddies, and Loki was ever so vigilant. Loki knew there wasn’t really much of a relationship between them, other than what was built off of sex and Tom’s need for money, but the green-eyed monster had reared its head immediately. Loki liked Tom, at least a little bit, and he loved sex with the sweet little twink. Tom was his, and he was going to keep it that way.

Tom’s big blue eyes begged Loki, swimming in tears from the spanking and the caning and the humiliation he had endured so far that night. No doubt his knees were beginning to hurt, but Loki wasn’t about to let him up. And it wasn’t as if he feared Tom wasn’t enjoying this, the sick little bugger—the evidence of his enjoyment was between his thighs, jutting proudly out, but Loki wasn’t ready to give him satisfaction. Tom jerked and whined, high and long, as the cane hit against his reddened bottom, and Loki almost broke his composure to smirk.

After a little more lovely torture Loki kneeled down on one knee in front of Tom, making their eyes level. “Tell me, Tom,” he said, taking the chain between Tom’s clamped nipples and weighing it almost thoughtfully, “was she worth this? Was she beautiful, sexy, did she moan for you? Did she tell you what a good little whore you are, to go behind your master’s back like that?” He tugged sharply, making Tom’s whole face contort and a muffled cry to break free, but Tom’s eyes never left Loki’s. He must have been afraid of what would happen if he disobeyed another rule.

“Panties out,” Loki commanded, standing again. “You’re going to tell me why you did it, and maybe if you can satisfy me you can stay.” Tom spit out the panties, which landed wetly on the floor, and it gave Loki a sick thrill to know that he could have done that at any time and chose to take the humiliation Loki served to him. Loki grasped Tom’s curly hair in a punishing grip, tilting his head back until Tom squinted up at him through his tears. “Well? What do you have to say?”

“I was drunk, Sir, I didn’t mean to make you angry—“ That was as far as Tom got before Loki pulled his hair roughly, making him cry out.

“Why did you do it?” Loki asked, the question burning him. “What did she say to make you forget the rules?”

“She—she looked like you!” Tom gasped, looking at once like a man in pain and like a boy about to come. Loki dropped his head, letting Tom’s chin flop down to his ruddy chest. Tom panted as Loki circled around to be behind him.

“I know there was more than that,” Loki spat. “Why would you want a look alike when you have me right here?” Another tug on the hair was enough to have the words tumbling out of Tom’s mouth, and the tears down his cheeks.

“You would never let me fuck you!” Tom wailed, and Loki, in his surprise, completely stilled. He was thankful he was behind Tom, or else his face may have given away his shock. Tom, the skinny, young, submissive boy, wanted to fuck Loki? Could it be Tom was a switch? For a moment all that could be heard was Tom’s rough breathing, then Loki’s calculating mind caught up to the situation.

Loki smirked to himself as he dropped to his knees behind Tom, hand trailing over the red marks he’d left all over Tom’s back. “You want to fuck me?” Loki asked in Tom’s ear. “You want to shove your cock up my ass and make me take it?” Tom whined. “You’re toying with fate, Tom. You know I could kick you out of my house for even suggesting such a thing. Then where would you be? You need me, at least until you get your feet on the ground. Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” Tom said dutifully.

“Would it be worth it?” Loki asked. “To fuck my ass?” Loki grabbed Tom’s ass cheeks, kneading them in a way that had to have been painful so shortly after a spanking like the one he’d been given. They radiated heat from the paddling they’d taken. Tom yelped.

“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, it would be worth it, Sir!” Loki chuckled.

“Why?” Loki asked, one hand slipping around to grasp Tom’s rock-hard erection. Tom mewled. “Because of how often you dream of it? Because of how badly you want it?”

“Yes,” Tom sobbed. His entire torso twitched with the need to rut into Loki’s hand, but he knew that breaking that rule would do him no favors.

“So you do want my ass?” Loki continued. “You want to be buried balls-deep inside of me. You want to feel me tighten around you until I milk all of your cum right from you.” Tom let out an agonized moan. “Go on then, fuck my hand,” Loki said, tightening his hold just enough. “Pretend it’s my hole you’re fucking loose. Pretend you finally get to feel my ass around you.”

Tom hesitated, likely thinking it was some kind of trick. But when Loki smacked his tender arse and growled, “Do as I say,” Tom started to thrust.

“Is that how you fuck?” Loki asked. “I feel bad for that woman. Put your back into it, you fool! You don’t get to come until I do.” Loki reached down into his tailored trousers, pulling his hard cock free. It slapped against Tom’s ass and lower back, and Loki growled at the freedom. He had been hard now for some time, but punishment came before anything else in this scenario. That was, until things had changed. Tom grunted as he started bearing down, thrusting into Loki’s hand.

“That’s more like it,” Loki said. “That’s how you pleasure someone—and I would expect you to pleasure me. You’ve got such a lovely cock, you know that? I imagine that it can bring so much pleasure when you use it right. Is that what you’re imagining right now, Tom? Using your cock on me just right, until you have me squirming beneath you? Do you want me moaning your name? Begging for more?”

“Yes,” Tom gritted out, eyes screwed shut.

“Oh? What do you want me to say, then? ‘Oh, God, Tom, don’t stop! Yes, yes, right there! Please don’t stop!’” Loki moaned. Tom whined, his cock giving a desperate twitch in Loki’s palm. “Yes, you like the idea of me down on my knees, desperate for whatever you would give me. Would you want to finish in my mouth when you were done with my tight ass?

“I wish you knew how long it’s been since I’ve had someone in me,” Loki continued, his other hand quietly slipping down the back of his own trousers. “It’s been perhaps too long. I’m so tight right now, I bet you could hardly fit inside me. You’d have to bully your way past the tension, make me yelp when you push inside. Wouldn’t you like that? Making me keen for you?” Tom moaned, and Loki’s breath deepened as he slowly inserted one finger into himself. Without lube there was a distinct sting, but he loved it. He was right—it had certainly been too long.

“Did you know that I bottom?” Loki asked. “I do, sometimes, when I find someone worthy enough. Do you think you’re worth it, Tom? You think you’re worth my ass?”

“Oh, God, please…” Tom groaned, head lolling back as much as the stiff collar would allow. His wildly curly hair tickled the side of Loki’s face.

“Please? That’s not what a good Dom says. Tell me what a good Dom says to his slut, Tom.”

“Stop squirming and take it,” Tom breathed, a heavy shudder going through his whole body. His voice took on a deep, rumbling quality, and while it still had the breathlessness of a needy Sub Loki almost shuddered himself. It was too easy to imagine Tom actually taking control, and Loki was surprised at the throb between his own legs at the thought. Oh yes, it had been too long.

“Is that all?” Loki asked, prodding around inside of himself.

“Don’t rush me, slut,” Tom said. It was amazing how easily the words slipped through his teeth, when his flush was deep down his back and his chest was heaving. This turned the poor boy on so much. “I’ll say what I want whenever I want to. If I want to tell you what a sweet little whore you make when your cheek is against the ground and your ass is in the air, then I will.”  Loki almost gasped. That was a position he hadn’t been in for quite a while, and he was just now remembering the exhilaration it gave him. It didn’t hurt that he finally prodded his prostate, making himself clench around his own finger.

“Would you ask me to spread for you?” Loki asked sweetly, just a little breathless. “Would you like to see my hole, Sir?” Tom’s groan could have shaken the foundation of the damn house.

“Yes,” he bit out, falling into the fantasy as his hips started pistoning hard. His ass rubbed against Loki’s aching shaft in the most delicious ways. “Yes, I want to see that pretty little hole of yours. I want to see it before I wreck it. It’s too bad it’s been so long for you—you’ll be feeling my cock for weeks afterwards.”

“You want me sore, Sir?” Loki asked, carefully adding another finger. He didn’t want to actually hurt himself, but oh the burn was so _good_ …

“Oh yes,” Tom growled. “I want you unable to sit the next day, I want you wincing with every step. I want those big green eyes of yours begging me from across the table to make it better, but you can’t say anything because there are people all over the crowded restaurant and you can’t stop squirming in your seat.” Loki allowed himself a small groan as the pads of his fingers dug into that place inside of him, allowing himself to be taken—however slightly—by the fantasy Tom was creating. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to. Tom’s erection jumped when he heard the noise Loki made.

“That’s it,” Tom encouraged, voice rough. “Moan for me, whore. I want to hear you scream my name while I pound your ass. God, you’re going to take me so well…”

“Anything to please you, Sir,” Loki said, knowing full well what it would do to Tom to hear him say that. And he was right. Tom’s hips jerked, and Loki could tell how much Tom was getting off on this. He was almost ready to come, although that wasn’t surprising with how long Loki had left him hard. Still, Loki’s earlier question was definitely answered; Tom was a switch, and a damn good one if this little show was anything to go by. Loki felt a thrill deep in his gut.

“That’s right, you’d do whatever I said,” Tom grunted, starting to lose his rhythm. Loki was really fucking himself now, curving his fingers in just so, and Tom was utterly oblivious. All the boy could see with Loki behind him was the hand Loki was using to squeeze his aching erection, all he could hear was Loki’s voice. “You’d get down on your knees and worship my cock, wouldn’t you? Tell me you would.”

“Every day,” Loki said, panting now. He was hardly keeping it together. He had to admit, Tom was spinning quite the web, and Loki was letting himself get ensnared. Between Tom’s nasty utterances, his ass bouncing against Loki’s own raging hard-on, his large, hot cock in Loki’s hand, and Loki’s own fingers shoved up his ass, Loki was well on the way to what promised to be an explosive orgasm.

By now Loki was timing his fingers with Tom’s thrusts, though Tom was becoming erratic. Loki allowed a few heady moans to slip through, and it only fed Tom’s arousal—as evidenced by his leaking shaft. And Loki, of course, was not the kind to let such an opportunity go to waste. While Tom had started gritting his teeth, driving towards the finish line with almost brutal thrusts, Loki was not yet speechless.

“Oh, God, Tom—yes!” Loki gasped, allowing the arousal he was feeling to seep deep into his voice. “Oh, thank you Sir, thank you Sirrrraaaha!” And Loki wasn’t faking that moan, either. As Tom’s thrusts became more animalistic, Loki allowed himself to let go.

“Please, please can I have more Sir? I want your fat cock so far down my ass that I can feel it in my stomach. I want to be able to taste your cum. You will cum in my ass, won’t you Sir?” Tom let out a startled groan. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” Loki chanted, his eyes slipping closed as he kissed the straining column of Tom’s neck. He knew how that always got to Tom—it was one of his weaknesses. Tom’s growl was something not quite human. Loki loved it.

“That’s right, slut, I’m gonna—gonna give it to you,” Tom choked out, thrusts becoming shallow and fast. His pelvis slapped against Loki’s hand. “Gonna come in your whore ass. Take it all! Fuck! Fuck!” Tom’s whole body spasmed as he came, his cum painting the dirty cement floors, hips locking.

“I’m so close,” Loki groaned. “Don’t stop!” Tom moaned as he tried to thrust through his orgasm, his movements weak, but Loki had long since stopped trying to time his fingers with Tom’s hips. He fucked himself with abandon, and the extra stimulation of Tom’s sweet ass rubbing against him was enough to finish him off. Loki shouted as he came on Tom’s back, making Tom groan. Oh, God, Loki had been right. That was a hell of an orgasm.

When Loki came down from the high, he felt an incredible satisfaction—not only on the physical level, but now he knew something more about the boy he’d been using for the last few months. It felt a little like breaking him, and Loki loved it.

Loki was still the Dom in this situation, and he pulled his pants up while Tom panted. All of Tom’s bravado had disappeared, and now he was just a bound submissive again. His orgasm had shaken all the rest from him. Loki smirked.

Loki took a nice long moment to enjoy the piece of art that was Tom’s whipped, bound, cum-covered body recovering from orgasm, then walked around to be in front of his boytoy again. Tom looked up at him, eyes still glazed and mouth open, his panting the only sound in the room. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of your system,” Loki said, resuming his domineering voice, “we can move on to more lucrative things. Clean my hand off.” Loki held up the hand he had used to jack Tom off, which was covered with Tom’s spunk, and Tom willingly opened his mouth. When Loki decided that hand was clean enough, he smirked almost cruelly and replaced it with the other.

See, Tom knew the taste of ass. He’d licked the taste off of toys that had been in his own before, after all, and the moment Tom placed the flavor his eyes went wide, almost worshipful. But there was something dark behind that, something new that Loki had unleashed. That’s right, Loki thought. Now you know what I was doing to myself. And I fucking loved it.

“That will be all for now,” Loki said, removing his hand from Tom’s gaping mouth. “I’ll return in a moment with a washcloth and untie you.”

Then Loki walked out, feeling Tom’s eyes on him the entire way. Loki smiled wickedly to himself. Oh, there was so much more fun to be had.


	21. Knock me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom has always believed he could get back up after anything. Now, he's not so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

“Knock me down seven times, I get back up eight.”

That had always been how Tom lived his life. He was the kind of person who always tried again, despite how disappointed and hopeless he came to be some days. It was all he knew how to do. He lived that way in his career, and he lived that way in his personal life. But Loki made it hard.

Tom was convinced that Loki was not a bad person. He was mischievous, and certainly not a good person, but from the moment Tom met Loki he knew that Loki was going to be central to each other’s lives. So Tom tried, again and again and again. Tom made Loki breakfast; Loki decided he didn’t like eggs. Tom gave Loki distance; Loki yelled that Tom didn’t love him. Tom talked to Loki; Loki got annoyed that Tom was distracting him. Nothing Tom did seemed to be the right thing to do, but Tom tried. Loki just didn’t seem to care.

The fact that Loki was staying with Tom didn’t help. Loki didn’t have anywhere else to go. There was no escape, and it was becoming so hard for Tom to keep his bubbling emotions hidden. Tom was starting to feel useless—unwanted. But Loki didn’t mean that, Tom knew he didn’t.

Tom cautiously snuggled against Loki under the covers. Sometimes Loki liked that, and sometimes Loki didn’t, but right now Tom needed a little physical reassurance. But that just wasn’t going to happen.

“Get off me, fool,” Loki spat, shrugging Tom’s arms off. Tom flinched back as if he had been burned, eyebrows puckering.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to hold you.” Loki scoffed, his back still turned to Tom.

“Why would I want you to? Pathetic mortal,” Loki said. He didn’t say it as if it were an exercise in being cruel. To him it was just a fact.

Tom’s eyes filled with tears as he turned over, his back to Loki. Their bed felt massive and cold. Of course Loki wouldn’t want him. Of course not.

Tom struggled to hide his shaking, trying to keep in sobs, and he knew that he was on the edge of a breaking point. But don’t cry Tom, don’t make Loki angry. Just bottle it up. That’s all you can do.

Tom wasn’t sure how many times he could get up again. He wasn’t sure how many times he wanted to. For the first time in his life, Tom wanted to give up on someone—and he wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive himself for that.


	22. So Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is Loki's pretty boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for underage and daddy kink. I want to make it VERY clear that having sex with an underage person is NOT okay, and is a line to never cross. As an adult, it is immoral to have sexual relations with a child or teenager and I am NOT condoning that kind of explicit abuse of power. However, this is something I've come to enjoy fantasizing about, and since this is a work of fiction I thought I would put it out there. Remember, what is okay in fiction is not necessarily the same as what's okay in real life. 
> 
> Anyway, yeah, if underage and daddy kink aren't your thing, please skip this chapter. (For reference, Tom is 16 in this work.) For the rest of you, enjoy!

Tom was such a pretty boy.

He was coming over tonight. He had told his parents that he and one of his friends from rugby were going to be staying over at his friend’s house. He’d told his parents that his friend’s family was out of town, so calling them would be pointless. He’d told his rugby friend to cover for him because he had to go see a girl. None of these things were true.

Oh, Loki could hardly wait to see that sixteen year old ball of energy bounding up his driveway. All that curly, mop-like hair, those bright eyes, those skinny legs and bony arms, that sunny smile that convinced the world that Tom was just an average boy, living an average life. No one would ever suspect that the straight-A student, star of the rugby team, theater geek Tom would be seeing a man twice his age. No one would ever suspect what they got up to.

Maybe it was the taboo that made Loki love this so much.

When the doorbell rang and Tom came barreling in (he had been jumping on the balls of his feet on Loki’s front steps, that was how excited he was) Tom wasted absolutely no time. “Daddy, can I make you hard please?” Tom asked the moment the door was closed. What a good little boy.

“Of course baby.”

It ended up with Loki sitting on the edge of the couch, Tom kneeling on the floor between Loki’s long legs as he tried valiantly—and succeeded—to bring Loki to hardness. It wasn’t a difficult task, not when Loki knew what was coming. Despite the proximity of Tom’s face to Loki’s crotch, Tom didn’t start off with oral. He had learned, and learned quickly, that Loki liked a little more buildup. He was such a good boy. Such a good, pretty boy.

Tom began by rubbing his hand over Loki’s clothed bulge, eyes locked on his own movements intently. Almost reverently. Loki never quite got over that—that boyish need and desire that narrowed the world down to this. It was like Tom had been waiting for this all day. Like it was the best part of Tom’s life. Loki had Tom hooked, so hooked that Tom wasn’t about to make a break for freedom. He loved this too much.

When Loki’s cock started to stir to life, Tom carefully, worshipfully unzipped Loki’s fly and pulled the half-hard member free. Just the feel of those dainty hands, hands that should have been pure and untainted, on his skin made Loki twitch enjoyably. Tom watched with wide eyes as he started pumping his hand slowly, coaxing Loki into hardness. Tom loved to see Loki’s cock swelling under his hands, loved the way the foreskin would cover the head, then retreat as Tom pulled rhythmically. Tom was practically spellbound.

Still, Tom knew what Loki wanted from him, and—ever the good boy—gave it to him. Rather enthusiastically. As much as he liked to watch the handjob, Tom loved the taste of Loki on his tongue.

Loki hummed a pleased sound as Tom took Loki’s head into his hot little mouth. He knew that Tom craved hearing Loki praise him, so Loki uttered, “Good boy, Tom. Such a good boy.” Tom mewled around Loki’s cockhead, swirling his tongue in the most erotic way. A boy his age shouldn’t know how to do this, not with the kind of skill and practiced ease that he did. Loki thrilled at knowing how far he had corrupted his sweet boy.

As good as Tom was, he was still learning. Once Loki was fully hard, he put his hand on the back of Tom’s wildly curly head and said, “Let’s try deepthroat again, baby.” That was all the encouragement that Tom needed to start swallowing Loki down. Historically Tom had a terrible track record with deepthroating. He just couldn’t get past his gag reflex, and Loki was so big, but Loki always praised him when he got a little further than normal and that was all it took to convince him to try.

Tonight was no different from any other night in that Tom could only get about an inch into his throat before he made a retching sound and had to pop off, coughing heavily. Somehow that was sexy to Loki. It was an innocence, in a way, an inexperience that Loki wanted to break and mangle and twist in so many ways. Loki pet Tom’s head as Tom coughed, cooing, “Shh, baby, it’s alright. There you go, just breathe. It’s okay. Do you want to try again?”

They spent the next ten minutes completing the same circle, but Tom got another half inch down by the end of it. It wasn’t even that Loki really liked the feeling that much, or that he expected his partners to be able to take him balls-deep into their throat. Really, it was all about sullying the perfection that was Tom. When Tom was red-faced, spit dripping off of his chin and tears in his eyes, that was when he was most beautiful.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Tom coughed, looking up at Loki with big, sad eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” Loki soothed, running his hand through Tom’s hair. “You did so well. I’m proud of you. Are you hard, baby?” Tom nodded, wiping his chin.

“I have something to show you, Daddy,” Tom said. “I wore it just for you.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Loki said. “Do you want to show me now?”

“Please, Daddy? I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will. Go on then.”

Watching Tom strip was one of Loki’s favorite things. He didn’t do it with grace, or even really any sexuality at all. It wasn’t a sexual act for him—in his young mind, you had to take off your clothes first. That was just how it was. And it wasn’t even that Tom’s body was extremely attractive, though Loki had no doubt it would be someday. Right now he was all elbows and knees. But there was something about the submission in Tom being naked when his Daddy was still fully clothed, erection jutting out through his open zipper, that had Loki in a state.

When Tom was fully disrobed, proving that his pubescent cock was, in fact, rock hard, he swallowed and stood there unashamedly for a moment, knowing Loki liked to look. Then, once Loki’s eyes had roved over him, Tom turned around and presented his ass.

“Mmm,” Loki hummed appreciatively, rubbing one of Tom’s round little globes. “Did you really do this just for me?”

“I did, Daddy,” Tom said obediently, keeping his hands on the floor like a good boy.

Out of Tom’s tiny, pink little hole, a red rubber ring protruded. It contrasted so nicely with Tom’s ruddy skin. Tom’s hole was all slicked up and shiny, and Loki shivered just knowing that Tom had been walking around with a plug in his ass just for Loki. “How big is it, baby?” Loki asked.

“It’s little,” Tom said. “Just two fingers thick. I wanted to stay tight for you, Daddy.” Loki hummed again, pleased and aroused. It was incredible the sway Loki had over his sweet little boy.

“You’re so pretty, Tom,” Loki said, almost to himself but loudly enough for Tom to hear it. “So pretty.” Tom whined high in his throat.

“Please play with it, Daddy,” Tom said. “It’s been in for hours—I just want you to play with it.”

“Of course, baby.”

One finger slipped into the ring and pulled, not hard enough for the plug to pop free but enough for it to press against Tom’s opening. Tom whimpered. Oh, Loki knew how much Tom adored the feeling of something—anything—up his ass. At first Tom had been so uncertain, almost wary of trying it, but Loki was a very convincing man and all Tom wanted to do was make Loki happy. It had quickly become Tom’s favorite thing. He didn’t even need for the object to be pressed to his prostate for him to enjoy it. He just liked being filled.

Loki pulled on the plug sporadically, finding quickly that it really was quite small—maybe not even two fingers. Even the slightest pressure had the plug sliding out of Tom’s well-used hole, which of course made Tom mewl and rock back just a little. There was something about watching that tiny, pink little hole widen and swallow an invader that made Loki’s own rock-hard erection twitch.

Loki played with the plug just long enough to have Tom panting and pressing back, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. Loki knew Tom couldn’t come from this alone, not yet, but if he wanted Tom to last longer than a few seconds when they got down to the real thing then he would have to stop now. Loki reluctantly pulled the plug out for the last time, placing it down on the small table beside the couch. Tom whined.

“Shh, baby,” Loki murmured. “Come here. It’s time to sit on Daddy’s lap.” Tom moaned and jumped to do as he was told. Oh, he was so eager.

Loki slid in with only a token resistance from Tom’s muscles. Tom’s body was accustomed to taking Loki’s full length, and between the plug and the many times they had done this Tom was more than prepared. He was blown open and easy, and Loki loved what he had done to this boy.

“Oh, Daddy,” Tom sighed as Loki slid home. “So good, Daddy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my pretty boy,” Loki said.

Tom bounced so nicely on Loki’s cock, panting and mewling as Loki’s head hit his prostate head-on. Tom made such a picture like that, with his hard little nipples and flushed chest, eyes glassed over from the pleasure. Loki didn’t even have to move, just stroke Tom’s sides and encourage him. “That’s it, baby. Oh, Tom, you feel so good.” Tom moaned.

Tom quickly started losing his rhythm, his internal muscles clamping down. Loki had known he wouldn’t last long, though, and let him spasm and come between them after only a few minutes. Then Loki started thrusting up, seeking his own release, and Tom keened as his oversensitive body was milked for all it was worth. Tom clung to Loki, spent and needy, but he loved this. He had once told Loki that his favorite part was when Loki kept thrusting; it made him feel well and truly used, his hole fucked into oblivion for his Daddy’s pleasure, just like he liked it.

It was another minute or two until Loki felt his balls tense as he shot everything he had into Tom’s waiting ass, with Tom’s desperate noises loud in his ear. “Oh, Daddy!” Tom gasped as he felt the hot gush of Loki’s spunk. Yes, Loki knew how Tom wanted it.

They spent a moment just like that, with Tom’s ass still snugly holding Loki’s softening member. When Tom’s breathing had levelled out somewhat Loki allowed himself to slip free, causing a quiet whimper of loss from Tom, but Tom knew what Loki wanted and quickly got into position. With Tom’s head on the floor and his ass in the air, Loki could see his own cum drip heavily from Tom’s loose hole. And he loved it.

“When will you fuck me again, Daddy?” Tom asked sweetly.

“As soon as we’re both recovered,” Loki said. “Would you like me to fuck you like this? From behind?”

“Please,” Tom moaned, already mentally prepared for another round. Oh, to be a teenager, full of rampant hormones and desires. Loki was only too willing to help Tom release some of his pent-up energy.

“Alright, baby,” Loki said, picking up the plug from the table and sliding it in. He wanted to know that his cum was trapped inside Tom’s willing body. Tom hummed in pleasure as the toy nestled inside of him with no resistance. “Come on now, let’s rest a moment. We have all night.”

Tom stood, a little wobbly on his feet, to curl up beside Loki on the couch. Loki put one arm around his sweet boy, pulling him closer and hearing Tom mewl as the toy moved ever so slightly in his tender hole. They would have so much more fun tonight.

Loki couldn’t wait to take his pretty boy again.  


	23. Below the Belt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom tells Loki something important, and Loki likes what he hears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the actual science behind PAIS (which is mentioned in this chapter) is a little beyond me. But I did a little research and tried to be at least a little accurate, so if there's any information I can add to make it more realistic please let me know. 
> 
> So this was spawned by two things. Firstly, I'm tired of Loki always being the intersex one. I get it, he's a Jotun, but I wanted to give Tom a turn. Secondly, I'm super duper tired of people who are intersex always being shown as insecure about it. I'm sure that happens with a good deal of frequency, but I wanted to make sure that people know that it IS possible to be at ease with your body, regardless of how 'different' it may be. 
> 
> Also, there's no actual sex in this one, but I think I might make a follow up. BUT I won't do that unless people tell me they want to read it, because I have a million other things to write. So if you want to see intersex!Tom action, please comment to let me know. That is all. Please enjoy.

Loki had met Tom online. There was kind of an immediate spark.

They liked a lot of the same things, but could respect each other when they had differing opinions, were interested in each other’s careers (Tom was a Classics professor who acted on the side and Loki was a translator who was also a folklorist), Loki didn’t feel the need to be a complete shit to Tom, and Tom was incredibly patient with Loki’s…Loki-ness. It had worked well from the get-go, and they went from messaging on their online dating site to exchanging emails, then phone numbers, then addresses. Over the course of three months, they developed quite the budding relationship.

There was just one problem that Loki was keeping to himself. It was something that had been a problem in several other relationships, and he knew he should just come out and say it, but he kept biting his tongue. This was so good, and Tom was so good to him, and Loki just wanted to see where this went.

It wasn’t until a particularly heated make-out session on Tom’s couch that things finally came out in the open. But, surprisingly, it was Tom who spilled the beans first.

Tom pulled away a little, and Loki immediately sensed that something was about to happen. He backed off, letting Tom say what he had to, and was immediately stunned. “Loki, I think there’s a conversation that needs to be had. It’s not a bad thing, I promise, but thing between us are getting hotter and I just want to be completely open about something,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Loki agreed hesitantly. This conversation usually didn’t end well—either the other person said they just weren’t interested like that, or there was some weird kink involved that Loki just couldn’t get himself into, or something like that. Tom took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself for something, and the tiny bit of fear behind his eyes was enough to make Loki sit up straight and pay attention. Tom was rarely ever frightened of anything.

“Have you heard of PAIS?” Tom asked. “It stands for Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome.”

“Androgen, as in androgynous?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” Tom said. Loki could tell he was doing his best not to show his worry. “To get to the point, I have that syndrome. It shows up in different ways in different people, but with me…well, bluntly, I have a vagina.”

Loki blinked at Tom.

“Just a vagina?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tom said. “No penis to be found.”

Loki hummed. “Do you have the rest of the female reproductive tract?”

“No,” Tom said. “I have an enlarged clitoris, regular vulva, and a vaginal canal, but no cervix, uterus, ovaries, et cetera.”

“Huh,” Loki said. What a surreal conversation. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“Does that…bother you?” Tom asked carefully. Loki rolled his eyes.

“Tom, the only thing that matters to me is that it doesn’t bother you,” he said. “And from what I can tell, you’re very open and confident about it. Other than that, I don’t see why I should care.”

“So you…are you still…interested, in me?” Tom asked. He broke eye contact for the first time to look at his hands, laying limp between them.

“Seriously?” Loki scoffed. “Put your hand on my lap and it’ll be pretty obvious how interested I am.” Tom flushed a little, seeming stunned. “I’m as pan as pan comes, Tom, I honestly do not give one damn about what you look like below the belt. You turn me on. As a person. And besides, I hate being the bottom. Honestly, I was really worried you would want to top me and I just hate that feeling. So this works.” Loki grasped Tom’s chin gently and made him look up at him. “Really, Tom, this works.”

Tom looked down at Loki with a sort of awe, and a good dose of affection. “I…Thank you, Loki.” Loki huffed.

“Please,” he said. “If I want you to thank me, I’ll let you know.” Tom laughed.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he smiled. Just like that, the mood was lightened. After all, Tom could always tell when Loki was being less than truthful, and now was not one of those times. Loki had said all that needed to be said—it just happened to also be the right thing.

“I have to ask though,” Loki said, a glint in his eye, “can I touch?” Tom laughed a little laugh, but looked secretly pleased.

“Well, I certainly won’t stop you,” Tom asked. “I know how curious you are.”

“So I am,” Loki purred, closing in for another kiss. “And if there’s anything I want to explore, it’s you.”

It wasn’t much longer until they both fell into bed, laughing and moaning, and oh yes Tom was so so so good inside, _yes._ And Loki decided he liked this arrangement.

By the end of the night, Tom was only too happy to agree.


	24. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom heads to his high school reunion, where he dominates the dancefloor...and someone else dominates him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Loki time! So we all know that Loki is able to change his gender at will, and is mythologically probably genderfluid, and I wanted to play with Loki being human--and female. I personally love the idea of Tom getting off on femdom, so if that's not your thing this chapter may not be for you. 
> 
> Secondly, we all know that Tom dances like a maniac. When I first read the prompt I was like: Oh, well obviously I should write something where Tom dances. But then I thought: What if it's less about the act of dancing and instead it takes place at a dance? And thus this was born. 
> 
> Finally, please for the love of God forgive me for taking so long to update this. I was stupid and started a bunch of chapter fics that I now feel like I need to follow through. I like them all, and writing them is fun, but I swear someday I'll have the ability to just sit down and write one thing and not start new projects until I've finished what I have. Ugh. On another note, though, I have some more oneshots I'm working on. One is Tom/OFC wherein Tom is a merman (because I like that shit) and the other is a Hiddlesworth that is way too dirty for this world (medieval AU, underage, etc.). I'm working on those, so you have those to look forward to when I never add anything new to this story. God, I'm sorry!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy, and y'all are awesome! Don't forget that reviews keep me going. I hope you like it!

Tom had always been a decent dancer, but he’d gotten better since he’d left this place. As he stepped off the dance floor, panting and sweating with a massive smile on his face, the people who had been watching him all cheered. He nodded at them, beaming, and went to sit down. All of this was so surreal.

He had been a popular kid in Uni, but being at his 10-year reunion was putting things in perspective. Being back in these halls, dancing in this gym, it made him realize how far he’d come. Looking around at all the faces he’d lost touch with, he realized that he had become ‘that man.’ He was the one unexpected star that rose from this place. He couldn’t believe it.

His heart still pumping from his rigorous dancing, he looked to the table where he’d been sitting only to find the table empty but for his seat, where someone was sitting. As he got closer he could see just who that someone was.

Loki, called Lady Loki by everyone for as long as Tom could remember, was a stunning woman. She always had been, but she had absolutely bloomed since graduation. She took Tom’s breath away. Her shining black hair, her porcelain skin, cunning green eyes, plush lips, incredible curves, and long, delicate limbs all combined into the most untouchable woman in the room. But Lady Loki looked up from her drink as Tom got closer, and the playful glint in her eye was that of a woman looking for a challenge.

Maybe it was the pulsing dance lights that made everything seem less than (more than) real, or maybe it was the adrenaline pounding like a drum in Tom’s ears, but Tom wanted to give her one.

He sat next to her, still panting but smiling at her. “Good evening, Loki,” he said, as if they were dear friends, but really he was taking in every glint of light off of her sequined green dress. The slit going up her leg was obscenely high.

“Good evening, Tom,” she said, and her voice was liquid sex. As she spoke, the dark red she had painted her lips captured Tom’s attention. Between those lips her teeth were perfectly white. “Do forgive me if I’m being forward,” (Tom didn’t think he would mind), “but I seem to remember something from our time here and I would like to clarify my recollection.”

“Well, of course,” Tom said, ever the gentleman. “Whatever I can do to help.”

“Great,” Lady Loki said. “I appreciate it. Perhaps you would like to go somewhere a little less noisy?”

The flash in her eye was unmistakeable, so Tom said, “Sure. Anywhere in mind?”

That was how he found Lady Loki’s painted nails clamped around his hand, dragging him through the abandoned halls. He was so busy staring in awe at the lithe way Lady Loki moved that when they entered a room he had no idea which room they were in. Then he saw the desk.

He remembered being bent over that desk as his girlfriend spanked his ass raw, trying to stay quiet so the janitors wouldn’t hear them. He remembered all the roleplays they’d done--and not just the two of them, but every girlfriend Tom had ever had. Just the memories made the blood run hot. He swallowed thickly as Lady Loki moved sinuously around the desk, slowly trailing her fingers over the wood.

“Thank you for coming here with me, Thomas,” she purred, and Tom shuddered at the use of his full name. “You see, I seem to remember watched you sit awkwardly in classes. I seem to remember the stories of your girlfriends sneaking out of their houses at night. I seem you remember your pleased look whenever you had to walk a little funny.” Those long, pale fingers plucked a cane out of the vase in the corner--they were only there for show, it was illegal to give students the cane now--and Tom’s breath hitched.

Loki casually tested the flex, and Tom’s legs went weak. Seeing such a beautiful, powerful woman with her hands on his favorite toy was--was intoxicating. Loki smirked. “I can hear your breathing deepen,” she said. “Take off your pants.”

Tom obeyed automatically. This was a role he knew well, one as essential to his identity as his bubbly smile. Being back here, in the dean’s office, lights off, trousers down, being happily walked all over by a dangerously in-control woman, he only wanted to please her--and would, naturally, be pleased himself. She wouldn’t even have to try.

Lady Loki tutted her tongue, her smirk growing when she saw that Tom was already half-hard. He couldn’t help it; the situation itself was just so erotic. Lady Loki moved the rolling chair, and with a graceful motion she indicated for Tom to bend over the desk. Tom did, wordlessly. Something in her gaze was teasing and it lit Tom right up.

Tom had to spread his legs to bend down so far, but Lady Loki kicked his ankles even farther apart. She wasn’t satisfied until his legs were so far apart that his hamstrings burned and the desk took all of his weight. He felt helpless, exposed, and it was so hot.

Tom shuddered as Lady Loki’s delicate hands smoothed over his rear. Even that light touch got him rolling and he was glad his cock was allowed to hang under the desk instead of crushed between his abs and the wood. Tom’s hands went automatically to the edge of the desk by his head, a position he instinctively remembered. Lady Loki took her time exploring the skin of Tom’s arse and thighs, and Tom sighed as his eyes closed. He knew she was lulling him into a false sense of security, but he let it happen. That was his role.

His brain didn’t have the time to register the whooshing sound before the cane made sharp contact with his rear. He gasped, eyes flying open. The sting was delicious, radiating through his body and making his heat rise. Loki caressed the reddening skin, making Tom quake pleasurably, and then another hard thwack made him jerk forward.

That was the rhythm: smack, smooth over, smack again. But Lady Loki decreased the time she spent touching him between hits, and soon enough she left it out all together. Tom squeezed his eyes shut as he yelped and shouted, loving every perfect second.

Then Lady Loki stopped abruptly, and Tom whimpered. His cock was so hard. Why did she stop? He lifted his head from where it hung over the side of the desk and was met by the sight of Lady Loki’s green dress.

“Pathetic,” Lady Loki said conversationally, and Tom’s cock throbbed. “You know there are people just a hallway away. If you can’t stay quiet on your own, I’ll make you be quiet.” Lady Loki slid her black knickers down her long, creamy legs, Tom’s breath hitching. Fingers pressed hard on his jaw and he opened his mouth--only to have those panties stuffed in his mouth. They were wet before they met with his saliva.

Tom moaned, and Loki dropped her hand. The rhythm began again, harder and faster this time, and Tom arched his back happily.

Tom lost all knowledge of time. His whole world narrowed down to the lashing of his burning ass, and it could have been second or hours before he was sobbing blissfully into the knickers in his mouth, tears streaking down his face. It hurt so much, it felt so good, he didn’t know whether he wanted to squirm away or lean back into. His fingers gripped the edge of the desk hard enough to dig his fingernails into the soft wood.

Then there was a pause, and the cane clattered to the floor. Loki crawled under the desk, between Tom’s legs, and Tom almost broke apart as those red lips gave his lower head a chaste kiss. His world spun, had been spinning, he was so close but couldn’t reach, and suddenly Lady Loki’s hands were grasping his numbing ass and her lips were around his cock. Tom sobbed brokenly.

Loki kneaded his sore rear roughly as she slowly took more and more of his purple cock into her searing mouth, and Tom didn’t know what to feel. His body couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. It all mixed confusingly in his head and he loved it.

Lady Loki took all of him in one sudden swallow, and Tom’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was so deeply rooted in her fluttering throat, and she didn’t choke for a moment. She hummed as if it were her favorite thing, taking a massive cock down her gullet, and Tom reeled.

She sucked him with vigour, never taking the agonizing pressure off of his arse, and his mind and body were so addled that not only could he not stop his loud noises, he couldn’t articulate a thing--in his mouth or in his mind. He was so caught in the whirlwind that he hardly even realized he was cumming, let alone be able to warn Loki. But she swallowed every drop happily, and Tom’s eyes rolled.

When Tom had been sucked dry, softening and shuddering on top of the desk, Loki slipped out from beneath him. Loki helped Tom pull his aching legs back in, one by one, massaging some feeling back into them until he could feasibly support some of his weight. He didn’t try. She pet him gently as he slowly came down from the high. He whimpered, his every muscle quaking in the beautiful aftermath, until his mind slowly returned. He could hear Loki murmuring sweetly to him, telling him how well he did, but he didn’t open his eyes until Loki carefully removed her knickers from his mouth. He looked up at her hazily, and she chuckled.

“Here,” she said softly, laying a card on the desk next to Tom’s shoulder. “I’ll be there all day tomorrow.” Tom could vaguely see an address on the card, but his eyes wouldn’t focus enough to read it just yet. She patted him on the head, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair momentarily before slipping her soaked knickers back up her legs (which would have made him moan if he’d had a voice left). Then she sauntered out of the room without a second look.

Sitting in the dark, it took Tom a long, long time to move. Every motion made his whipped skin sting, and he loved it. There was no way he could go back to the dance now.

When he finally got up the strength to get dressed and leave (in awe of the red ring of lipstick at the base of his cock), he slipped the card into his pocket. He knew where he would be tomorrow.


	25. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom didn't like to think about the what-ifs, but today he began to brace himself. Loki may not ever wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, sadness! There are a lot of stories that focus on Loki's reaction to Tom's mortality, but in the cinematic universe Loki is also mortal--just ridiculously difficult to kill. I wanted to play with that. 
> 
> Alright, read away. Bring tissues.

The problem with fevers is the dreams they give you.

It was terrifying to watch Loki thrash in his sleep, tangling himself in the damp sheets as his pale skin flushed. The healers of Asgard had told Frigga in hushed tones that Loki’s Jotun heritage was exacerbating his illness, that they were treating him as completely as possible, that they weren’t sure what the outcome would be having not treated a Jotun with an Asgardian illness before. They said they didn’t want to tell Tom, because of what the stress could do to his fragile Midgardian body, and Tom slunk away so they wouldn’t find out he’d overheard.

Now Tom spent his days sitting by Loki’s bedside reading or talking to Frigga or talking to Loki. Loki hadn’t been awake much the last few days.

When he did wake it was in fear. His eyes, which had hazed over enough from the fever, would roll around in his head, desperately searching for enemies that weren’t there. Tom learned quickly that he had to wait until Loki had calmed to comfort him--the last time he’d tried to tell a freshly-woken Loki that all was well he’d been sent flying into a wall--but recently Loki would startle awake in terror and be dragged back under the heavy hand of sleep before he could even recognize that he was awake.

Tom fiddled with the lower corner of the page he was on, but he wasn’t looking at the words. The room was silent as Loki slept; he was between nightmares, but Tom didn’t dare leave the room les the dreams come in his absence. Tom slept as often as Loki woke.

How could it be that only a week ago Loki had come to the healers, saying he was fine but knowing only a doctor’s agreement would soothe his lover’s nerves? Tom was grateful he had pushed now. One week from diagnosis, five days from hospitalization, four days from the first nightmare, and a day and a half since Loki stopped waking up. Tom was one flayed, bloody nerve, desperately and helplessly waiting for Loki to wake up. He could feel himself becoming gaunt. He walked around like a ghost.

He tried so hard not to think about what-ifs, but today he began to brace himself. Loki might not ever wake up.

The idea of what would happen next scared him. As beautiful as Asgard was, it wasn’t home. It was the place he had with Loki, the place where  they could be together uninhibited by the worry about cameras and fans and autograph seekers. It was a place characterized, to Tom, by the wholeness of their relationship, and it would be empty here without Loki. It might be empty everywhere. Tom’s life was on Midgard. He had that to return to, no matter what, but would he want to? Mourning was a powerful thing.

Still staring at his page, Tom heard the telltale rustling in the sheets that meant Loki was falling into another nightmare. Tom’s mind, sluggish and numb from lack of sleep, could only think to sigh. Tom looked up from his book and took up watch again.


End file.
